The Snapeling
by Grey Streaked Fur
Summary: Eve shrugged. It was far from the worst thing she had ever been called. It was like a mix between 'Snape' and 'hatchling' and she couldn't deny that she looked like a mini Severus Snape."Eh, I actually kind of like it."
1. Prologue

A/N: This story was the original drafted idea for the character of Eve Peters from my other story "Dudley Dursley and the Deathly Hallows." (Go check it out if you would like, but it does not hinder on this story - as Eve will have significant differences in this one, so it isn't required.) This is an AU story that focuses on the concept of Severus Snape having a daughter before, during, and after Harry Potter's time at Hogwarts. I know this trope has been done excessively, but I hope to bring a different spin on it without falling into the pit of predictability. So read, enjoy, and comment if you'd like me to dabble further into this story.

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Prologue: The Daughter

(June 1989)

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The sound of the analog clock echoed loudly in the empty hallway, grinding in her ears like a chisel. She tried to drown out the mind-infesting sound by rolling her skateboard back and forth with her foot as she sat in an itchy office chair. But no matter how hard she dug her foot into her board, it did not create a sound loud enough to cover the clocks endless noise.

Eve Peters looked up to stare at the hall clock in frustration, wishing for silence. Wishing she wasn't in this stupid hallway, in this stupid building, waiting for her entire life to change. She was about to meet her biological father.

Then it stopped. As though fearful of the girl's rage, the clock had ceased functioning; the second hand hovered between the 2 and 3, no longer moving around the face. No longer making a sound. Eve sighed with relief, but instinctively clutched her backpack, worried that something else strange might happen to the clock. But nothing did.

Eve chewed on her lower lip, trying to piece together the erratic thoughts that buzzed through her mind. Before the accident, it had always been her and her mother. No grandparents, no aunts or uncles, and no father; just Renee and Eve, the mother-daughter duo. Obviously, Eve had _known_ she had a father; she was ten years old after all and she understood basic biology, but she had never met him, nor had her mother ever spoken of him. She did not know his name or what he looked like, and had always assumed that he had died or something.

A few paper birds flew passed her, their parchment wings rustling as they flapped down the long hallway. Had she seen the spectacle a week ago, Eve would have leapt away in fear of their unnatural quality. But she had learned a lot in the past seven days when her foster care counselor handed over her case to counselor Gary Kowalski, who had a knack for handling "special cases" like her's.

Eve had always had a feeling that there was something different about her; strange things tended to happen around Eve ever since she could remember, but she had always had a logical explanation for them. Toys that her mother had taken from her when she had gotten in trouble always appeared back in her toy box within minutes, locked doors would mysteriously unlock when she jiggled the handles enough, small cuts and bruises had somehow disappeared before she reached home after falling off her skateboard. It wasn't until after the accident that the bizarre incidents had increases in both frequency and scale after Eve had somehow ended up outside of the car she mother had been driving when that drunk driver hit them head on…

The strange events had only escalated when she she was put into the care of the Jensen family. Eve had not gotten on well with the family, especially Mrs. Jensen and her oldest son. They had been on a mission to "save" her soul in the most unchristian ways possible. There were only so many times that she could stand the words "bastard child" and "heathen" without causing something to happen. In the short time that she had lived with them, there had been two basement floods, an ant infestation, and the disappearance of several of the Jensen's belongings – each of the events had happened after Eve had wished them ill after a fight with the older boy or his mother. She was not the only one who made this connection, for though there was never any evidence that Eve had caused these things to happen, Mrs. Jensen had become convinced that she was the spawn of the devil. Everything had come to a head when all their kitchen windows exploded after the Jensen boy tore up her math homework.

When Ms. Gary Kowalski took over her case, not only had Eve been removed from the insane foster family, but she had also been introduced her to the world of magic, and to the fact that her father was alive and a member of this magical society. Eve had always prided herself in being a practical and logical child; she had never played with the idea of magic as a reality. But upon staying with Gary for the past week, her views on magic and entered the world's reality. It was both incredible and terrifying at the same time.

Gary Kowalski had been both supportive and incredibly sympathetic towards Eve - which she supposed was what made her such a successful counselor - the older woman berated the broken system for finding orphaned magical children.

" _Normally we are able to find No-Maj borns or other magical children in time to find them suitable arrangements with magical families when they have nowhere else to go, as their names are on the Ilvermorny Registry from the time they are born."_ she had explained to an exhausted Eve on her first night in this bizarre world. " _But for those with magical parentage outside of the states, they are usually registered in their home country. Lucky, Albus Dumbledore is far more cooperative than other schools, and I was able to get your Hogwarts Registry information rather quickly. It was amazing luck we also happened to find your father - apparently you look just like him - turns out he works for Dumbledore as a teacher..._ "

Eve had to stop her counselor for the millionth time that day so that she could explain what Ilvermorny and Hogwarts were, or who Dumbledore was. Gary had to backtrack and explain that they were two of many magical schools, and Dumbledore was the headmaster of Hogwarts. Eve's would-be excitement of magical schools was weighed down by the knowledge of her father. She had no idea what he was like, or what having a dad was like, and the idea made her more nervous than excited.

That sensation filled her in waves throughout the week as arrangements and plans were made. Eve tried to busy herself with all of the books on magic in Gary's home and office (after all, she had a lot of to learn) but her nerves would catch up with her, making her a bit jittery.

That sensation had increased tenfold as Eve now sat in the hall of the AMAA, (American Magical Adoption Agency) and even with the absence of the ticking clock, her leg frantically pushed and pulled the skateboard back and forth. Back. And forth.

"Eve?" the girl jumped at Gary's voice, launching her skateboard out of her foot's reach. Despite the heavy looking oak door, the woman had managed to open it without making a sound. ' _Another form of magic._ ' Eve thought to herself as she stood up to retrieve it, still shaking a little.

"Yes?" she tried to say in her most composed voice.

"I'm sorry if I surprised you," Gary smiled sympathetically. "Would you like to come in now?"

Eve found herself nodding as she fiddled with the hem of her lilac blouse that lay just over her grey skirt - apparel that she never would have picked out herself - it was far too girly for her tastes, but she had to look "presentable". Eve didn't necessarily disagree with this approach, but topping it all off with Mary Janes and lace-lined socks had been enough to put her in a foul mood with her counselor all morning; Gary's idea of presentable was something a five-year-old would wear.

Picking up her skateboard, she forced herself to walk forward. Gary stopped her at the door, tucking a strand of Eve's dark hair behind her ear. She gave the woman a withering look, only to receive an impish grin in return. Gary Kowalski never seemed to be bothered by anything. Eve stepped inside the woman's office with hesitation and Gary took the opportunity to guide her inside.

"Eve, this is your father…"

 _No kidding_.

The thought jumped in her mind. They shared the same near-sickly pale complexion. The same boney frame. The same fine black hair and dark eyes. Eve could have been his shrunken clone if her nose was longer and slightly hooked - and she was very glad it wasn't - but their similarities were still eerily striking. A paternity test really must have been more of a formality than anything else.

"Severus Snape."


	2. 1989, Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A Tolkien Moment

(July, 1989)

Eve had assumed that she would be moving into a magical home inside of a magical world riddled with the wonder and whimsy of what she had witnessed in her short time with Gary Kowalski. Though nervous at the prospect of living with a father she had never known, she had that spark of excitement for learning more about the world that had also eluded her for ten year.

However, Spinner's End was neither wonderful or whimsical. It was a grey little house, on an even greyer street that was shadowed by the skeleton of an old mill. Everything on the outside was dingy and boring - she had envisioned someplace grand, possibly in London - not some sad, mundane road in the depressingly tiny place known as Cokesworth. Eve knew better than to mention this to the man that lead her into the place she was to call home, his black robes swooping behind him as he moved, reminding her of a bat flaying into a cave. Severus Snape somehow matched the bleak personality of the neighborhood while simultaneously standing out against the normalcy of the street.

The weeks that had followed were as colorful as the house on Spinner's End. Eve had to fill her time pouring over historical and academic texts from the wizarding world (which there seemed to be plenty of, though Eve found many of them dry and difficult to understand.) When she lost interest in that, she would skateboard down some of the pothole-ridden streets, or sit on the one good swing in the sad remains of some small park and stare up at the clouds and think about her mother. She had been told not to wander far from the house and she had yet to build up the courage or interest to break that rule. Days blended into each other in a boring blur.

Today, however, would stick out as Eve stared up at the clouds (which happened to be the entire sky this particularly grey afternoon.)

"Oi, what we got 'ere?" a voice asked. Eve looked up from her seat, to see three boys standing in front of her. They looked to be a bit older than her, though not by much. They didn't look very menacing, though the glint in their eyes hinted that the were the sort that enjoyed causing trouble. The owner of the voice appeared to be the leader, as he was taller and stronger built than the other two. His messy brown hair lined his face in frizzy clumps as he looked down at her. " 'Oo are you?"

His British accent was thick and Eve was slightly thrown by it; she still wasn't used to their dialect.

"Eve," she said simply. Normally she introduced herself with her full name, but she wasn't really sure of what to call herself anymore. Was she still Eve Peters, or what she now a Snape? She hoped it would remain the former, as Snape sounded sharp and much too harsh for her liking. Besides, even if she did know what to properly call herself, she wasn't sure if she wanted the likes of them to know it.

"Well, you sure in't from 'ere, are you?" he laughed as the other two chuckled along. They seemed to find her accent as funny as she found theirs'. " I'm Devin, and these are me mates Kevin and Dan."

"Told you she was a girl," the short, blond boy introduced as Dan said as he and the skinny boy, Kevin, continued to snicker.

"Wisconsin," Eve said, ignoring the comments from the other two. This was not the first time she had been mistaken for a boy.

"That's an American place 'er somthin, in'it?"

"Or something."

"And you live 'ere now?"

"Yes," Eve drawled, sounding more rude that she had intended to be. Devin got a dark look on his face.

"If you wer'a boy, I'd flatten you fer speakin like that ta me," he growled, holding up a fist. "Jus' as well, you sure are ugly 'nuff to be a boy…" Eve raised an eyebrow. Was she actually being threatened to be beaten up by some stupid boy? Devin approached her menacingly, moving his arm back in the beginning motions of a punch. Eve flinched.

But the boy stopped with a snide chuckle. He dropped his fist.

"Naw, me da told me ta never hit a girl. Raised me proper," he said with an air of pride, as though he felt accomplished for merely threatening her. "But, I think I'll take your skateboard as an apology. Then we cans all be chums." Before she could react, the boy grabbed her most prized possession and tucked it under his arm.

"See you around, trog," he spoke over his shoulder as he walked away, his friends trailing behind him with laughter. Eve had no idea what a trog was, but she knew it was meant as an insult. Eve was not a much for confrontation, especially when the opponent was three older boys. She wasn't nearly stupid enough to try and stop them physically. But she really loved her board…

With a sudden rush of embarrassment and anger for not standing up for herself, she glared at the boys - who were now a good ten feet away - and reached towards them. With a sudden jerking motion, the board flew out from under Devin's arm, past the other two boys, and into her outstretched hand. The boys all whipped around in confusion and surprise. Eve didn't stick around to see how they would react next, and she booked it out of the park and down the street towards home.

Eve slammed the door of 1960 Spinner's End with a resounding thud and locked the door. She had run fast enough that she had seen stars. In a panic, she had even hid in a small alley for a good five minutes - to make sure she wasn't being followed - before running the rest of the way home. The last thing she wanted was for them to know where she lived. Even now, she was still trying to catch her breath.

It didn't help matters when her father stepped out of the kitchen and lingered in the doorway. His stare was intense as he looked up and down her now dirty attire with slightly disgusted expression.

"Where have you been?"

"Outside," she answered a vaguely as possible, refusing to look him in the eye. Eve had quickly learned not to make eye contact with Severus Snape; whenever she did, it felt like they were boring into her soul, looking past her words and directly into her brain. She wasn't necessarily scared of his gaze, but it still unnerved her.

"Hmm," he looked like he was about to call her out on her weak response, but instead let out an exasperated breath. "Well, I suggest you clean up and change for supper."

Eve couldn't help but make a face when he turned away. She had grown up playing in the dirt and hanging around her home with ripped jeans and dirty shirts, but her father demanded a clean and well-kept appearance. He had some sort of hang-up over Eve's grungy and ill-fitted clothes, and had quickly taken her out for new ones.

Eve nodded before heading down the hall.

"And do not roll that thing across the floor of this house, or I will take it from you."

A part of Eve wanted to challenge him on his threat just to see if he would be true to his word, but she had already had her skateboard almost taken from her once today and she was determined to keep it.

Grumbling, she picked her board off of the floor as she went upstairs to her bedroom. The few times they had conversations with each other, it was usually him scolding her in some way or another. During her short stay at Spinner's End, Eve had already concluded that Severus Snape was not a kind individual, and that he found her to be more of a mild nuisance than anything else. Yet, he was leaps and bounds better than the Jensen family, because other than scolding, he mostly left her alone.

Eve's bedroom was smaller than most bedrooms, with an even smaller window. The ceiling slanted with the roof, making one side more spacious than the other. The walls were a sterile white, lacking all personality, like the rest of the house. Eve wished she could paint the walls or at least cover them with posters, but she felt she should wait a little longer before bringing that up with her father.

Tossing off her dirty clothes and chucking them onto the bed in the sloped corner of the room, she then rummaged through the drawers of the old oak dresser. It was now filled with button shirts and dark pants (as Eve had refused to wear another skirt or skort.) Eve disliked the new clothes; they were far too nice, making her feel like she was always preparing to go somewhere fancy, _and_ many of the white button shirts itched. Eve practically had to beg to keep and wear her comfortable clothes when playing outside or doing chores.

Once dressed, she made her way to the kitchen, mentally preparing for the next half hour. Most of the day, she and her father did their own thing and did not interact with each other often. Dinner was the only significant part of the day that she shared with Severus Snape, and those minutes were quiet and awkward. It was obvious that the man had no idea how to live with a child, (or any other person for that matter) but Eve did not hold that against him. She didn't know how to live with an adult wizard either.

Dinner also proved to be more remarkable from the previous ones.

It had started off routine. The two of them sat in silence at the small kitchen table as they ate, the soft clink of silverware on china was the only sound that filled the space.

The mundane atmosphere of the evening shifted with a tap on the kitchen window. Eve looked up to see a huge, yellow-eyed owl staring back at her through the curtains. Surprised by the feathered creature, a bit of the potato she had been chewing on caught in her windpipe. She choked for a moment before receiving a hard smack on her back, causing her to spit it back onto her plate. She hear her father mutter something under his breath as he got up.

To her surprise, he opened the window, letting the behemoth of a bird into their kitchen. Eve watched wide-eyed as the animal landed into the countertop with a resigned hoot. Instead of attacking her father or flying about the room, it held out its leg steadily. A small roll of yellowish paper had been tied there.

Severus Snape untied the knot and retrieved the paper. He uncurled it and stared at it for a few moments before scowling. The bird let out another hoot before flying back out the opened window. He closed the pane behind it.

"What is that?" Eve asked, nodding at the paper in his hands.

"Work related," her father said dryly.

"From Hogwarts?"

"Yes," he replied, sitting back down at the table. He tucked the paper into some unseen pocket on the inside of his robes. "Albus always sends letters at the most inconvenient of times."

"Are all letters delivered by birds?" Eve asked, the concept was very bizarre to her.

"Yes. All post is delivered by _owls,_ " he corrected.

"Why not carrier pigeons?" Eve asked, remembering some of their historical uses that her mom had once taught her.

"Magical owls do naturally what Muggle carrier pigeons only do with extensive training." Eve wrinkled her nose, she disliked the term 'Muggle' more than 'No-Maj'. It just sounded so low...so derogatory.

"Besides," he continued before returning his attention to his dinner. "who would want their mail delivered by rats with wings?"

Eve smirked as she picked up a fork full of green beans. She felt a bit uplifted by the conversation. It was the first time they had had a full discussion without him scolding her for something.

"And don't slouch at the table."

 _Never mind_. Eve groaned to herself as she attempted to sit up straighter.

* * *

Eve was awake unusually early that next morning. The sun barely made it past the horizon and the dawn chorus of the local wildlife had just begun. Eve had had a rough night - one filled with nightmares about her mother and intermittent bouts of crying and trying to fall back asleep, only for everything to repeat in a vicious cycle - and usually that meant she would wake up later in the morning, but this time it was different. Luckily, these horrible nights had decreased in quantity since her move to England. It made it easier for Eve to ignore and to hide from her father. She didn't want to bother the already grumpy man; she could handle it herself.

Eve wasn't sure how much sleep she had managed, but she knew it wasn't much. She was both exhausted and yet wired from such a stressful night that she gingerly got out of bed and ready for the day far sooner than she normally would.

With a dreary yawn and her eyes half closed, Eve bumbled her way through her morning routine of getting dressed, combing her hair, and making her bed. She staggered out into the upstairs hall, towards the stairs, but stopped just as she reached the landing.

She heard voices.

She could hear the unmistakable drawl of Snape's deep voice, followed by the sound of a much lighter and softer, yet still masculine voice. Who would be visiting so early in the morning? Eve couldn't make out what they were saying, but her could tell the visitor was being persistent and that her father sounded unhappy. Then again, he never seemed to be happy.

Quietly as she could, Eve made her way down the stairs, careful to lunge over the middle two steps that creaked every time they were stepped on. She crept slowly and with purpose, like she was on a covert mission. She couldn't help but imagine being a spy ready to listen in on valued information.

When she reached the bottom landing, she stopped at the sliver of a hallway that separated her view from the living room, and by the sounds of it, her father and the stranger were talking in there. Leaning her head against the wood of the hall's wall, she could hear them perfectly.

"... They'll be happy to take her " the stranger said insistently. "Molly's twins will be attending Hogwarts this year. She's says it would be nice to have another child around since it will just be her two youngest at home now."

"I do not believe the Weasley's would be the best fit for Evangeline. She is a fairly quiet child, I'm not sure how she would adjust to a more... _boisterous_ environment."

Eve shuddered. They were talking about her. Was her father planning on sending her away? She knew the man wasn't overly pleased with her presence in his home, but she never thought he would want to get rid of her. She thought she had been well behaved...

"Perhaps a different type of environment would be good for...Ahh, good morning, Miss Peters," the stranger greeted halfway through his sentence. This sudden surprise caused Eve to jolt, hitting her head on the wall with a strong _thud_. She hissed in pain, rubbing her head as she emerged from the hall. How had he known that she was there?

"Serves you right for sneaking around," her father said bitterly. "What are you doing up this early?"

"I couldn't sleep," Eve looked away as he stared at her intently. Her father frowned and Eve got that tingling sensation in her brain that she often got when he stared at her like that.

"Now Severus, no need to scold her for moving around her home...sneaking or otherwise," the stranger said softly. Eve turned her attention to him and the sensation went away.

The man was old. Very old, if his long white beard and wrinkles were any indications. And, unlike the dark black robes that her father wore, he was donned in light purple and a vivid lime green. Half-moon glasses were perched on his slightly crooked nose as he smiled at her with a gentle sincerity. There was something about him that just seemed to buzz with magic. He was the epitome of what Eve would have considered to be a wizard even before discovering the magical world. She couldn't help but stare longer than necessary.

"It's lovely to meet you Evangeline," the man rose from the ancient armchair he had been sitting in. He held out a hand.

Running on autopilot, Eve found herself walking over to him to shake his hand, still transfixed on his bizarre nature.

"You look like Gandalf," she said stupidly, the thought slipping from her mouth and she instantly regretted it. Eve felt her face grow hot as she heard her father scoff.

To her surprise, the man laughed. Eve dared to look up at him

"That has to be the best compliment I have been given in a long time. Tolkien was a very gifted writer."

"Yeah, I read ' _The Hobbit_ ' with my mom -" Again, Eve found herself blanking. That had been the first time she had mentioned her mother aloud since she had died. The lack of sleep and surprise human interaction had affected her horribly and now she was embarrassing herself in front of a mysterious wizard.

"Isn't it a nice story?" he asked. "Why don't you sit down, Evangeline, and we'll talk." Eve found it kind of strange to be offered at seat in the house she had been living in for over a month by a complete stranger, but she couldn't help but do as he asked.

"Eve," she corrected as she sat down. "Call me Eve, please."

"Of course, Eve."

She smiled up at the old wizard. She liked when adults listened to her and actually used her preferred name. Some people would just ignore her request, and were insistent on using her birth name, like her father. Evangeline sounded too soft, too whimsical. She just liked being plain old Eve.

"Ah, and where are my manners?" he said with a twinkle in his bright blue eyes. "I'm Albus Dumbledore.

The name sparked with recognition in Eve's brain.

"...Oh! The headmaster of Hogwarts!" The man nodded in affirmation. Eve had a million questions run through her mind about the magical school even though she had read ' _Hogwarts: A History'_ during the most rainy days at Spinner's End.

"I can't wait to attend next year!" she again blurted out despite herself. Severus Snape made another exasperated sound, but she ignored him.

Dumbledore chuckled.

"Of course, Hogwarts will be just as excited for your attendance as an enthusiastic pupil," he smiled at her. "However, there is the question of where you shall stay for the upcoming school year, since your father is a professor at Hogwarts. That is why I am here this morning; we are simply discussing options since September is approaching quickly."

Eve felt a sense of relief wash over her. So that was what they were discussing; she wasn't going to be sent away for good. She suddenly felt quite foolish for thinking that she was being shipped off to another family member she didn't know, or worse, back into a foster home like the Jensens. Of course she couldn't be left alone at her age while her father was off teaching at a magical boarding school!

"It has proven difficult on such short notice," Snape added with a curt tone, as though it were her fault for appearing at such an inconvenient time. Eve felt her face flush again and there was a silent pause.

"I have been in contact with a wonderful family that would love to have you stay with them during the school year. Arthur and Molly Weasley still have two children at home around your age, which I'm sure would be helpful in integrating you into the magical world," Dumbledore said with an encouraging nod.

"And you think they are too... _boisterous…_ too loud... of a family for me?" Eve asked her father with a slight hint of pride from understanding the more complex word. She imagined staying with a magical family in their home with kids her own age. Eve could not have cared less about how _loud_ they were - she would even live with a _crazy_ magical family if it meant escaping the mundane bleakness of Spinner's End. There was still so much she needed to learn about this world.

"I… I think I would like that," she said. "I could learn so much about the wizarding world. It would be beneficial to know as much as I can before going to Hogwarts, right?" Eve asked, looking at her father with the most innocent gaze she could muster. From the corner of her eye, she could see Dumbledore's eyes sparkle behind his half-moon spectacles.

Eve couldn't help but smile as Severus Snape let out a short huff of agreement.

* * *

Eve spent the remainder of the day in a cheery mood. She would be living with a magical family for an entire school year instead of spending time in a boring, non-magical classroom. She had been reminded that she would still be homeschooled on basic writing and mathematics in addition to magical concepts, but she didn't care.

Not even the disgusting tea her father all but forced her to drink with her dinner could sour her good mood. Eve hated tea, especially the minty green tea that she had been given. Despite this, she drank it without much of a fuss; her thoughts were too preoccupied with excitement.

She went to bed shortly after, her eyes and mind heavy with exhaustion.

She had no nightmares that night, nor any dreams at all.

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A/N: So, I've set my sights on Eve being a shy yet wise character. I feel like she has always been a mature young lady and rather well put together for a girl who has recently lost her mother, but the grief seeps through - which I will touch more in further chapters, if people are interested.


	3. 1989, Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you for your encouraging reviews...here's another chapter!

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Chapter 2: Frogspawn

(August 1989)

The strength of Eve's excitement over living with the Weasley's wavered within a few days after Dumbledore left the house on Spinner's End, as she would not be moving there until the end of the month. There was only so much cheerfulness that she could hold onto in the dreary place of Cokeworth. On top of that, it had been raining nearly every day, leaving Eve shut indoors. She tried to keep herself occupied with books and her chores, but those only took up so much time in a day.

By the fourth day of ceaseless rain, Eve was bored.

Today, her boredom overpowered her desire to stay quiet and out of the way of Severus Snape, as she did not want to give him any reason to change his mind on the subject of the Weasleys. She decided that today, she would attempt to do something different.

She had been standing at the door to the basement for several minutes, hesitant to move any further. Her father was down there at the moment. Eve knew it was full of potions and ingredients for them, as he had told her what was down there, but she had never actually seen them. She had been told to always knock before entering when he was there, and to never, _ever_ , go down there by herself. She had always been curious of the room and all it contained, and if she had been a more bold person, she probably would have snuck down there to check it out. But Eve was not that sort of child.

With a deep breath, Eve knocked on the door.

"Enter."

Eve slowly pushed the door open and it creaked loudly as is shifted. She was greeted by a long a narrow staircase that lead to a dimly-lit basement. As she cautiously followed the steps down, the air became cool and damp. When she reached the bottom, her eyes scanned the space.

She realized that it was less of a basement and more of a cellar. The walls were completely made of dirt, carved into the earth with smooth but prominent edges, and each of them were lined with rows and rows of shelves filled with bottles of _things_. Some of them appeared to be dried plants, others looked like they belonged in a mad scientist's secret lair - all sorts of shriveled and goopy things surrounded her.

The furthest wall from her held a set of two small tables - stocked with ingredients, books, a cutting board, and rolls of yellow paper - and between them sat a large cauldron, though her view of it was partially obscured by the dark shape of Severus Snape. He sat on a stool in front of the pewter pot, methodically adding some sort of red berry to the purplish ooze within.

"Yes? What is it?" he asked without looking up from his work.

"I...uhh…" Eve stuttered, realizing that she didn't know exactly what she wanted other than to simply not be bored. The man glanced at her with a raised brow. "I wanted… to see what was down here?"

"Is that a question or a statement?" he snapped. Eve bit her lip and folded her arms in frustration.

"Do you not have chores to do?"

"I finished them," she answered truthfully; she had easily completed the chores she had been given to her for the day. They were never anything hard or complex; usually sweeping or dusting some room or another, things she was already used to doing.

"If you are searching for things to do, I can think of a few things to keep you busy," he replied with a tone that suggested that whatever he was thinking of would be less than pleasant. Eve did not want to find out what he had in mind.

"Can I watch you work?" Eve asked. She was truly curious _and_ eager to step away from the subject of extra, unpleasant chores. Severus seemed to be surprised by her request for he opened his mouth to speak, only to close it again. It took a few seconds longer for him to speak.

"I suppose," he said, returning his attention to the potion in front of him. "But stay quiet and do not touch anything."

Eve wandered closer towards the potions master. She stood a few feet behind him, watching as he added another ingredient (this time some sort of slug-looking creature) into the cauldron. His moves were precise, almost mechanical, each step already ingrained in his mind as he never looked at the book on the table next to him. She stared in awkward fascination.

Her father reached for a large hourglass and flipped it over, the green sand slowly began falling from the top chamber into the bottom.

"You may sit down," he said, pointing to a small stool tucked under the bottom row of shelves to her right.

"I thought I wasn't supposed to touch anything."

"Don't be cheeky. Either sit down or leave."

"Yes, sir," she said nervously. She pulled the stool from under the shelf and sat down, still giving the man plenty of space to work. Though at the moment, he had ceased adding to the mix, and seemed to be waiting on the falling sand.

"What are you making?" Eve dared to ask.

"A Shrinking Solution." Eve cocked her head in confusion and her father sighed. "The Engorgio Spell is commonly taught to fourth year students. And every year some dunderhead botches the spell extensively enough that they can not shrink the target - _usually themselves_ \- with a counter spell. Hence the reason I need to brew some before the next bunch of idiots starts their lessons."

She blinked a few times. Severus Snape did not seem to like children at all (her included) so then why was he a teacher? The question burned on Eve's lips as she stared at the man as he picked up and long feather from a bottle of ink and wrote something down on a piece of the thick, yellow paper. She decided to as a different, much safer question.

"Why do you write with a feather and not a pen?"

"It's called a quill, and wizards and witches use them to write," he answered as he wrote.

"It seems a lot messier than a pen…"

"It is what is used," her father said with an air of finality that adults tended to use when they wanted to end a conversation. Eve did not press further.

"Can I help?" she asked, nodding at the potion.

"Certainly not; I would like to keep my home in one piece, thank you," he scoffed. Eve looked down at her feet in embarrassment.

"But I suppose you could hand me the frogspawn from the shelf above you," his tone becoming quieter and less biting. "It's in the blue bottle...and be _careful_."

Eve looked above her and she could clearly see the bright blue bottle several shelves above her. She stood up and reached up towards it, being weary of all the other bottles on the shelves in her path. She reached...and it was _just_ too high. Her fingertips barely grazed it cold exterior. Even on her toes, she was unable the grasp it properly. Not wanted to disappoint the man who was busily jotting down further notes, Eve stepped up on the stool for a little extra leverage.

Perhaps the stool was too old and rotted, or maybe Eve had eaten more than her fair share of snacks as of late, but it could no longer support her weight as she had seized hold of the bottle. Down came Eve and the frogspawn.

Eve landed on her bottom on the floor of the cellar, the force of the fall causing the glass bottle to break, covering her in slimy eggs and bits of broken glass. Eve sat there motionless in a state of shock as the wind had been knocked out from her lungs.

"Are you injured?"

The question seemed far off in the distance as Eve mind struggled to comprehend what was occurring around her. As suddenly as the goop had gotten on her, it disappeared without a trace, leaving her spawn and glass-free. She felt two rough hands grab at her arms as she snapped out of her state of shock.

"No cuts…" he said after checking her for injury from the glass. "Does anything else hurt?"

"My...bottom…" she answered sheepishly.

"As to be expected," he said as he pulled her up off of the ground.

"I'm ...sorry…" Eve choked out, her lip quivering. She couldn't help but feel emotionally distraught over the incident. Yes, she had made a mistake, but it was just a bunch of icky frog eggs and a moldy old stool - nothing to cry about - then why did she feel like crying?

"I told you to be _careful_ ," her father repeated. "But that stool breaking was not directly your fault. Though I suggest you be more aware of your surroundings. It's important to spot dangers like that before they become a problem. Hopefully you'll keep that in mind as a student, and maybe you'll be easier to teach than most of the incompetent children that I normally have to deal with," his words had the same strict tone that they nearly always carried, but it was accompanied by firm but gentle hand on her shoulder, and Eve had to wonder if this was as close to affection as Severus Snape could provide. She found herself desperately missing her mother's bear hugs.

Eve nodded, forcing her would-be tears back until they had disappeared. Her father waved his wand and like the bottle of frogspawn, the stool vanished into thin air.

"Good. I think you should head back upstairs now." Again, Eve nodded in solemn agreement, still felling less than sure of herself. She began to trudge up the stairs, her backside still sore from the fall.

"Evagliene."

Eve stopped halfway up the narrow staircase. She stared down at him blankly.

"Tomorrow, if you find yourself lacking things to do. I can show you how to properly cut Gurdyroots. Put your free time to use," With that, he gave her a wave of dismissal.

Eve found it easier to make it the rest of the way up.

* * *

A/N: I have found it very difficult to write the character of Severus Snape. I want to write him as in-character as possible, while still writing him as a new parent. I cannot imagine him being a kind or nurturing parent, but not neglectful either. 'Tis hard to write such a complex character. Please Review!


	4. 1989, Chapter 3

A/N: Onward to The Burrow!

* * *

Chapter 3: The Burrow

(Late August 1989)

August passed far more quickly for Eve as she was instructed on how to properly cut Gurdyroots, peel yew bark, and stew herbs like sage and lemongrass each day in the dingy cellar. It wasn't easy work; when she made a mistake, she was instructed to start over and do it again - and again. Assisting Severus Snape with his potions was far from entertaining, but once she got the hang of basic preparations, it had become a methodical and almost soothing task.

Eve had learned a lot about potions in those few weeks, mostly about the properties of ingredients rather than actual brewing; but between some of the potions books at Spinner's End and asking her father questions when he was in a fair mood, Eve had developed an interest for the subject even though she had yet in understand many its aspects.

But the learning experience did not change the fact that Eve was eagerly awaiting her relocation to the Weasley home, as her belongings were readily packed in the a old, beaten suitcase days before she had to carry it down the stairs and over to the fireplace in the living room. Apparently, they would be traveling by Floo Network. She had Flooed once before through the International Network from America to England, but those fireplaces had been huge and she hadn't traveled alone, but now, she would have to use it by herself.

After Severus explained the process of Floo travel and had her repeat the information back to him twice, he gave her a nod of approval and handed her a small handful of the sandy powder. Holding her suitcase awkwardly in one hand and the powder in the other, Eve stepped into the fireplace.

"The Burrow!" she shouted, throwing the powder to her feet. With a sharp twisting sensation, Eve felt herself flying through the Network, she saw flickers of light from the fireplaces of other homes before being spat out through one of the openings. Not well-braced enough for the impact, she tumbled onto scuffed hardwood floor.

"Goodness! Are you alright dear?" a voice asked from above her. Eve looked up to see a short, stout woman with a mane of frizzy red hair staring down at her. The woman offered her a hand, but Eve shook her head and stood up on her own. She brushed the dust off of her white button shirt.

The room around her was wood-based; the floor and the walls were the same earthy color, and nearly every inch of this sitting room was occupied by something. A love seat and several armchairs were crammed into the small space, none of them matching another. The walls were lined with shelves upholding books and knick knacks, or held pictures or paintings of some sort. The place was definitely cluttered, but Eve would not consider it messy or unclean. From where she stood, she could see part of the adjoining room (which appeared to be an equally cluttered kitchen) and the wall of a staircase leading up to another floor. All in all, Eve's first impression of the Weasley house was that of visually noisy charm. A far cry from the impersonal and somber ambiance of Spinner's End.

There was a roar from behind her and her father stepped out of the large fireplace. He, of course, was steady on his feet and free from soot as he emerged.

"Molly," he greeted the woman.

"Severus," she returned in the same formality. She then returned her attention to Eve with a warm smile. "and you must be Evangeline." Her voice was strong and slightly deeper than most women she had met, and there was the slightest tone to it that she could only describe as motherly.

"Please call me Eve."

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Weasley smiled brilliantly, crow's feet appeared around her eyes revealing both her age and loving nature. Eve gave her father a pointed look. _See, even she will call me Eve._ Her father gave her a slight scowl. He had apparently understood her silent accusation.

Molly either ignored or was ignorant to this exchange, for she continued to speak with the same soft tone.

"The children are all outside, I'll round them up to meet -"

"Mum, the boys won't let me play Quidditch with them!" a voice whined in a high-pitched tone, interrupting the conversation. A small girl a few years younger than her rounded the corner. Her hair was straight but tussled upon her head in the same shade of fiery red as her mother's, her soft brown eyes were shined with angry tears. Eve did not know what quid-ditch was, but she assumed it was some sort of game.

"Well, there's one of them at least." Molly tutted more to herself than anyone else. "This is my daughter, Ginny - Ginny, this is Eve Peters and her father Professor Snape." Eve found it odd to hear her father referred to as 'professor'. She mentally shrugged it off and managed to give the girl a half-hearted wave.

A light of recognition filled the girl's features, the tears in her eyes had quickly disappeared.

"Finally, I won't be the only girl in this house!" she exclaimed cheerfully. She approached Eve with such a fever of excitement that Eve feared that the smaller girl was going to hug her, but the girl didn't not encroach upon her space further than about a foot.

"Ginny why don't you show Eve her room? I'll speak to your brother's later."

"Okay, mum," Ginny replied with unwavering excitement, and Eve assumed that the Quidditch issue was now forgotten. The girl picked up her suitcase before eve could reach of it. "Come on! Let's go," Ginny spoke over her shoulder as she had already started towards the stairs. Eve helplessly followed in silence.

The stairs were long and narrow and stretched and twisted up several levels - far more than one would ever expect a home to have. Eve craned her neck to try and see the top, but it was nearly impossible. She followed the girl up three floors, each of the landings bled into the next stairway, only holding a door or two on each level. The girls stopped abruptly in front of a single door on a landing of its own. Ginny twisted the doorknob with her free hand and nudged it open with her foot. It swung open with little effort.

The room was only slightly larger than her one at Spinner's End, and it too was full of hodgepodge furniture and slightly cluttered with odd and ends lined on the shelves and window sill.

"This is my brother Bill's room, but he's moved to Egypt now, so you can use it," Ginny said with a huff and she lugged the suitcase onto the twin bed.

"Thank you."

"Oh good, you do speak," she laughed, sitting on the bed next to the suitcase. "You don't talk very much, do you?"

"I do… just, not at the moment, I guess," Eve shrugged as she walked over to the small window; she had seen something orangeish zoom past. She peered out the window and was taken aback by what she saw. It was a boy, several years older than her, flying through the air on a broom; his hair was a lighter shade of red, but he was unmistakably related to the girl on the bed. Upon further inspection, she saw a couple more figures soaring through the air; she couldn't not make out any discernable features other than their various shades of red hair.

"You can actually fly on brooms?!" Eve exclaimed with a snicker as she envisioned the Halloween green-skinned witch flying under a full moon.

"Duh, how else do you fly?" Ginny snorted, but upon seeing her expression, the girl seemed to blank.

"You...haven't flown a broom before?"

"No," Eve sighed, "I didn't know I was a witch until this summer."

"Professor Snape didn't tell you?" she asked, confusion etched in each word.

"I didn't know him until this summer, either."

"Oh," Ginny said. "Your mother wasn't a witch then?"

Eve winced slightly at the mention of her mother, but she shrugged. "I don't think so; I was raised in the non-magical world."

"Wow! Dad is going to ask you so many questions when he gets home. He loves Muggle things, like ' lecttronics." Eve still did not like that word, but the girl did not say it in a condescending or negative tone.

"Electronics?" Eve clarified. Ginny nodded vigorously. Eve stared back out the window, watching the red-haired children fly around as one of them threw a ball to the other. How many children did this family have?

"What are they doing?" Eve asked.

"Playing Quidditch," Ginny answered darkly, the anger in her face reappearing. "They always leave me out of it."

"It's a game played on brooms?"

"Yes _and_ it's only the best game _ever_! I can teach it to you sometime." Eve nodded to her in agreement, still staring out the window. Quidditch was hypnotic to watch.

From floors below, they could hear Mrs. Weasley calling them, her voice calling quite clearly for the distance. (Well, she was calling Ginny, but Eve figured that the call was for both of them; after all, she had not said her goodbyes to her father.)

The two girls mades their way back down the stairs. On a second passing, Eve focused on the the other floors with more scrutiny. She knew nothing of architecture, but something told her that the house's structure would be impossible to accomplish without some sort of magic. While the floors didn't feel slanted, they didn't appear to be level either.

The two adults had migrated to the kitchen, and her father looked slightly annoyed, but thankfully not angry.

"Evangeline, a word before I leave," Severus Snape said with a level of impatience.

"Okay."

The two of the stepped into a nook in the kitchen where a large bay window overlooking the backyard. Eve could still see the the other Weasley's when they swooped low to the ground. She could hear Ginny leave the house though the kitchen door to the outside as it creaked loudly. Her father, however, was fully focused on her and Eve could help but feel like she was in trouble.

"Now I am only going to tell you this once, so listen carefully," her father spoke quietly and softly, yet his words were anything but. "You will listen to Molly and Arthur Weasley and you will obey the rules that they set, you will focus on your studies without complaint, and you will be _perfectly_ well-behaved."

Eve had to force back a scowl. Eve doubted that she had given the man much reason to believe that she would run amok through The Burrow like a wild animal.

There was a sudden bang out in the distance, loud enough for the both of them to turn to look out the window. The field where the boys had been playing Quidditch was now full of a blue, hazy fog. She could hear several shouts from outside, followed by the slam of the kitchen door and the enraged shouts of Mrs. Weasley. Eve then realized that her father's concerns may not have been completely unfounded.

"I don't think the standards will be too high…" she said before she could stop herself.

"And none of that cheek," he admonished, pointing a bony finger in her face. This time his words were sharper, but there was hint of something in his expression that Eve could only have guessed to be amusement, but it had vanished far faster than she could muse itover. "Understood?"

"Yes, sir," Eve nodded.

"Good." He gave Eve a light pat on the shoulder before leaving the kitchen nook.

From outside the kitchen door, Mrs. Weasley's voice grew in volume. She had returned to the house.

" - And don't come in until you have washed it all off. And I mean _all_ of it!" she shouted as she opened the door, then quickly slammed it behind her.

"I'm sorry about that," the woman said apologetically. "Keeping all those boys in line is difficult during the summer when they are all here…"

"Molly," her father interrupted. "I do believe that I'll be taking my leave."

"Oh," Mrs. Weasley huffed, dusting herself off. Eve noticed that her smock was now lightly streaked with blue, as were her hands and bits of her face. "You wouldn't like to stay for tea then?"

"No thank you. I have plenty of things to finish before the beginning of term," he answered dismissively.

"Ah, yes, of course," she nodded, still looking quite exasperated. "Well then, have a lovely semester."

Severus let out a scoff that Eve supposed could be passed off as an abrupt laugh as he turned away from them, back into the sitting room.

"Bye," Eve croaked out awkwardly after him. He did not return the sentiment.

With her father gone in a flurry of smoke and ash, Eve stared uncomfortably at the woman in front of her, unsure of what to do.

"Why don't you make yourself comfortable dear," she said sweetly. "I'll make you some tea while we wait for the children to clean themselves off. I'm sure the boys would love to meet you."

Eve didn't not have the heart to tell the woman that she disliked tea. Besides, it was amazing to watch the woman wave her wand and charm the teapot and a cup to move on their own accord. When Severus Snape made tea, he made it by hand. This was far more exciting. Eve sat down in one of the many seats crowded around the large kitchen table and marveled at the pure rush of magical energy that filled the the strange and exciting home.

Eve determined that this type of magic was something that she loved.

* * *

Arthur, Molly, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Fred, George, Ron, and Ginny.

Eve repeated these names to herself several times in order to memorize them. Molly and Arthur had insisted that she use their first names, since they felt it would be all too formal to use 'Mr' and 'Mrs' while she lived with them.

Bill was the eldest, but he was in Egypt so she doubted she would be meeting him any time soon.

Charlie was almost an adult at sixteen and seemed pretty good-natured. Percy was the quietest of them and the most serious.

Fred and George were twins were loud and mischievous (it had been one of them whom had set off that obnoxious blue cloud.) And after several of their pranks, Eve found herself disliking them quite a bit.

Ron was the youngest boy and slightly boorish, which she suspected was the result of having five older brothers.

Then, of course, there was Ginny, the youngest and only girl of the family, who seemed to cling to Eve's presence like she was some sort of extraordinary creature.

Eve struggled to process and separate each red-headed family member and the entirety of The Burrow. Ginny had given Eve a lengthy tour of their home; from the tiny cellar where they stored canned vegetables, to the attic and the ghoul that haunted it, and every bedroom, bathroom, and closet in between. While Ginny was quite thorough in her tour, she spoke with such speed and excitement that Eve had found it very difficult to keep up with her constant yammering.

On top of the vast, winding corners of the house, Eve had also been shown the back yard - complete with a vegetable garden, chicken coop, a makeshift Quidditch, and a large shed where Arthur kept all of his non-magical gadgets. From the outside, Eve noticed that the home looked even more crooked and structurally unsound than it had from the inside. It leaned impossibly to the left, leaving no other explanation other than magic for why it was able to stand.

The next couple days were chaos for her as she was not used to living with such a large family. That, combined with the perplexing mix of British and magical living, was a cultural whiplash for her. Luckily, she knew that things would settle down at the end of the week once the older boys left for Hogwarts and she would be able to collect herself again - though that wouldn't stop Ginny. The eight-year-old had been clinging to her like a parasitic leech for the past three days and it was driving her mad, though she didn't have the heart to snap at the girl who seemed so lonely.

Luckily, by the third day with the Weasleys, she got some reprieve as Ginny had been cornered by Molly to spend the day cleaning her room, which she had apparently avoided for several weeks. Eve took that opportunity to head outside on her own.

It was a beautiful summer day, slightly cooler than she would have expected for late August, but surprisingly devoid of clouds, leaving an endless ocean of blue sky. Eve wandered aimlessly through the long grass as she gazed at the sky and the softly swaying trees.

"Wotcher, Eve."

Eve stopped abruptly to see the deep auburn hair of Charlie Weasley. The teen sat in the tall grass with some sort of clippers in one hand and the bristles of his broom in the other.

"Excuse me?" Eve asked. "What did you just say?"

"...Wotcher?" Charlie answered, tilting his head slightly as he observed the concerned look on her face. "Oh! It's slang for 'what are you up to?'"

"Ah, so it's a British thing?"

"More of a Cockney thing, really," he shrugged. "I have a friend that says it all the time. Kinda rubbed off on me, I guess."

"In America, we say 'sup?'," Eve said, jerking her head slightly upward as she had seen many of the teens back in Wisconsin greet each other.

"'Sup?" Charlie mimicked, his shaggy hair flopping in his eyes as he did. He could pull the gesture off a lot better than she could.

"Not much, just…"

"Escaping the twins?"

Eve sighed with relief; at least she wasn't the only one who noticed.

"That and Ginny...What are you doing?"

"Just trimming up the broken ends of my broom; I've got to keep it in good condition for the Gryffindor Quidditch team. I'm their Seeker," he said cheerfully.

"That's the one that goes after the tiny winged ball, right? The one worth a lot of points?" Eve asked, trying to wrack her brain on what Ginny had told her about Quidditch the day before.

"The Snitch. And yes, that's my job," he said this with an air of pride that only enhanced his grin.

"It's funny," Eve mused aloud. "I didn't even know you could fly on broom until I saw you guys out on them the other day. It strange knowing that there is a whole sport involving them."

"You mean, you've never been on a broom?" Charlie exclaimed with an expression akin to horror, as though he couldn't imagine such a predicament.

Eve stared down at the ground with embarrassment.

"Well, I guess it makes sense," he coughed. "Mum did say you grew up in the Muggle world before living with Professor Snape, and I don't think he fancies flying…"

Eve nodded. She tried to imagine her father on a broom and it made her snort with quiet laughter. Charlie also let out a soft chuckle.

"Well, I suppose we'll have to change that, won't we?" Charlie said as he stood up. "C'mon, I'll let you use my broom."

Eve was taken aback; she had not expected this turn of events. A well of excitement and fear suddenly filled her. What if she wasn't any good? What if she somehow broke it or fell off? She was used to the scrapes and bruises that came with skateboarding, but not from falling a hundred feet in the air.

Charlie must have seen the fear in her face, for he quickly assured her that he'd make sure she remained close to the ground. It was with this promise and level of caution that made Eve swallow her fear and agree to learn.

She felt a bit foolish as she straddled the wooden broom as Charlie had shown her. Once he had shown her how to properly grip the broom and adjusted her stance, he gave her a nod of approval.

"Okay, now kick lightly off of the ground. The broom knows what to do," he said as he stared at her expectantly. But Eve did not move. Again, feeling foolish, she decided to do a slight jump.

And she did not come back down.

Quite the contrary, Eve found herself rocketed into the air, shooting off the ground at a terrifying speed. But before she was sent into the the endless sky, she felt a sharp tug on both her legs. Eve looked down to see Charlie gripping onto her, his bulky frame preventing her from going any higher. Nonetheless, she was still nearly six feet from the ground. She steadied herself on the sliver of wood, trying not to fall off after immediately being airborne.

"You okay?" Charlie asked, his grip still strong.

"I think so…"

"Alright," he huffed. "Now will it to go forward."

" _Will_ it?" Eve asked in terrified confusion.

"Think about going forward and the broom will do it."

Eve wanted to ask how a broom knew silent commands without a sentience, but also feeling like a complete moron who needed to be held down while flying, she simply did as he asked. The broom inched forward. Charlie moved with her, his grip still firm on her left leg.

It must have been her obvious nervousness, because he continued to hold on to her leg as she slowly flew around the Weasley's makeshift Quidditch field. It was a surreal experience - gliding through the air, her feet never touching the ground - it was an amazing sensation that far outweighed skateboarding.

"I'm going to let go now," Charlie said. Memories of her mother saying those exact words when Eve was learning to ride a bike filled her mind. Instead of feeling heartbroken, as she usually did when thinking of her mother, she couldn't help but smile. It was a pleasant reflection of the moment.

"Ok," Eve replied, with the same air of determination she had on that dusty road in Wisconsin. She felt the boy let go of her leg as she continued to glide on her own. She didn't fall.

She felt accomplished. She felt free. And with a thumbs-up from Charlie, she braced herself and and went faster.

* * *

"I"m sorry I wasted your entire afternoon," Eve said sheepishly to the older Weasley boy. The afternoon sun had begun to hang low on the horizon, signaling that it would soon be time for supper. The two of them headed back towards the towering house.

"It wasn't wasted," Charlie shrugged. "I've taught all my younger siblings how to fly. I'm totally used to it. Besides, you're a fast learner; I honestly didn't have to work a whole lot."

"You were a good teacher; you could make a job of it."

"Me? A Professor?" he laughed. "I have no interest in that sort of thing… unless it was Care of Magical Creatures, I guess. Naw, I'd rather do something strictly with animals, like hippogriffs or dragons…"

"Really?" she asked in amazement as the walked along the wooden, mismatched boards of The Burrow.

"Yeah. In fact, there is this dragon preserve in Romania that I've -" his words were cut short by the sudden a rapid fire of small pellet-like object raining down upon them. Each one burst open, covering them both with a green and sticky substance. There were howls of laughter coming from above them. Through the goop on her face, Eve caught a glimpse of the Weasley twins at their window, laughing at her expense.

A red-hot anger boiled in her stomach. Normally, Eve thought she was a passive person; she wasn't much bothered by pranks or taunts that she had been subjected to in elementary school. It took a lot to get under her skin. However, Fred and George had been subjecting her to their pranks at a near-constant basis since she had arrived; exploding sparks under her chair, turning her hair purple, setting off foul smelling dungbombs in the stairwell, and even a biting teacup, had been targeted at her. The amount of these awful pranks had built up so quickly that Eve had begun seething with rage.

She had only felt this burning sensation once before, which lead to breaking Kenny Davis' nose in the second grade. He had been relentless in his antics too…

"I'll murder you both!" Charlie shouted, wiping the sludge out of his eyes.

"I volunteer George first!"

"No way! Fred is far more easy to catch. Kill him first!" The twins shouted in mock fear, they were far from bothered by their older brother's threats. Eve hated them and she desperately wanted to retaliate - or at the very least shout at them.

But she held her tongue. She had to _behave_ , after all.

* * *

She held her tongue as Charlie ran into the house. She held her tongue as Mrs. Weasley helped clean the disgusting muck off of her. She held her tongue while Mrs. Weasley shouted at the twins with a terrifying anger. She held her tongue when asked if she was sure she didn't want dinner. And, she held her tongue as she marched off to Bill's bedroom.

Just as she was about the climb the last set of stairs, she noticed the bedroom door on the third floor was ajar. Light poured into the hallway, illuminating the hardwood floor with a golden glow. Eve thought all of the Weasleys were at dinner, but perhaps one of them left their oil lamp on. She edged towards the door and peered in.

This bedroom was cluttered with books. Most of them were where they belonged on the shelves, but there were on the bed, the desk, and even on the floor. Most of them looked old and thoroughly second-hand. In the corner of the bedroom sat Percy, the Weasley she knew the least about (well aside from Bill.) He appeared to be writing notes with a quill.

"Hmmm?" he asked looking towards the door. His eyebrows raised in mild surprise as she tried to slink away.

"Sorry!" Eve apologized. "I thought maybe you accidently left a light on when you went down to dinner… Why aren't you at dinner?"

"Why aren't you?" he returned with a level of smugness.

"I'm avoiding Fred and George."

"Ah," he huffed sympathetically. Eve nodded awkwardly as she watched him scribbled something down. "I fully understand, _I'm_ usually the butt of their jokes."

"You are?" Eve asked curiously.

"Yes," he answered firmly. "Well, come on in. I'd rather you not creep on me from the doorway."

Embarrassed, Eve nudged the door open and cautiously walked in.

"So, what _are_ you doing up here?"

"Homework," Percy sniffed. "I completely forgot to add a critical point to this Monkswood essay. Professor Snape is…" he looked up at her, stopping himself from saying something. She could see him struggle for a different word "...not a lenient man."

"I hardly know him," Eve assured the teen. "But I know that is not inaccurate."

"Merlin, you even speak a bit like him, you know? Except the accent and all…" Percy chuckled. "Are you sure you aren't the result of some sort of cloning potion that Professor Snape created?"

Eve stared at him blankly for a few seconds as Percy continued to chuckle to himself, but the boy quickly noticed the look on her face and he immediately stopped. His cheeks and ears turned a bright red.

"Sorry," he apologized softly. "I'm really bad at making jokes."

Eve shrugged it off. He apologized quickly and admitted his lack of tact, even though it wasn't especially necessary. That was more than easy to forgive.

" 'Sokay," Eve reassured him. The red in Percy's face faded but still lingered as he turned back to his work.

"Can I look at your books?" she asked. Even though she was sick of reading, she still needed to look up what a Hippogriff was.

"Yeah, go ahead."

Eve slowly scanned through the texts in the shelf. None of them seemed to be about magical creatures. _Quidditch through the Ages_ , _Rune Meanings: an Explorative Research, Hairy Snout, Human Heart, The Fifth and Sixth Goblin Rebellions, Standard Book of Spells: Grade 2,_ and

 _Beginning Potion-Making._

This was not she had been looking for, but it certainly peaked her interest. She had learned a little bit of potions through her father, and she sorely wanted to learn more than the scraps Severus Snape had taught her.

She pulled the book from the shelf and opened its very worn binding.

"Careful with that!" Percy exclaimed, startling her. "...Sorry, but that has to be kept for Fred and George to use...and Ron…" the flush of color returned to his facial features. Eve felt her face flush as well; one did not have to be exceptionally astute to conclude that the Weasley family lacked money (they did have to feed so many children after all.) Eve suddenly felt bad for becoming an extra mouth for them. She both wondered and hoped that they were receiving some sort of compensation for allowing her live with them.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful." She made sure to open the book slowly and carefully. The binding creaked as she did. Even with the best of care, she highly doubted it would survive the Weasley twins.

Eve was really excited to finally see the recipe for a potion. She had opened to one on Chapter 3: The Coloring Solution. Eve read through the ingredients and instruction for several minutes before cracking a smile. She had an idea…

"Percy," she said, walking over to his desk. The teen laid down his quill with a sigh and turned to her. "Can you make this potion?" He adjusted his glasses and read the pages she was pointing to.

"Well, of course," he replied haughtily. "It's a second year potion."

"I figured as much," Eve said as she rolled her eyes. "I mean, can you make it here. Right now?"

"Right now?" Percy asked in surprise. "I know making potions doesn't activate the Trace, but it's discouraged to brew them outside of school...and why that one?"

"Would you brew it if I told you it was for a prank on Fred and George?"

Percy stared up at her from behind his wire-framed glasses, his expression unreadable. Then, just when she believe that he would tell her off, he gave her a large grin.

"Do tell…"

As Eve explained her plan, his smile continued to grow.

"Well, I suppose I still have some ingredients from last year and I think mum keeps a few sludgeweeds in the cellar for her cleaning potion… and I suppose that they could all happen to fall into my cauldron in this specific order. All accidental, of course."

"So, when should this all _accidently_ happen?"

"Tomorrow morning?"

"Okay," Eve said as she headed for the door, leaving the potion book on the bed.

"Oh, Eve?"

"Yeah?" she asked, stopping at the doorway.

"What color did you want to use?"

"The brightest, most vomit-inducing shade of pink," she answered with an impish grin.

She could still hear Percy's laughter as she shut the door to Bill's room.

* * *

A/N: Eve is a pretty easy going girl...but she doesn't put up with incessant asinine pranks. (I actually really like the Weasley twins; don't worry, she wont hate them forever!) Tell me what you think!


	5. 1989, Chapter 4

A/N: Happy Birthday to Professor Snape! Thought this would be a good time to post another chapter of this story that is (kind of) about him.

Read. Enjoy. Leave a review. I do so love feedback.

* * *

Chapter 4: The Snapeling

(September 1989)

September 1st, Eve woke up to what sounded like elephants herding themselves up and down the narrow staircase of The Burrow. She grunted and tried to roll up in the warm, patchwork quilt to drown out the noise. She was just about to slip softly into sleep when she remembered that she had a revenge plan to fulfill. Grinning to herself, she rolled out of the bed, flopping onto the the floor in a tangled quilted mess. She quickly rushed to get dressed; she only had a short window to enact her prank on the Weasley twins.

A few days before, Eve and Percy were able to secretly create the color-changing potion in his bedroom. Eve allowed Percy to take control of creating the concoction, as she wanted it done correctly the first time. But unlike her father, Eve was able to convince the boy to allow her to actively participate in its creation. With his help, Eve was able to add and stir several of the ingredients into the battered cauldron that Percy had set up behind his bed. According to the boy, it had been an easy potion to make and Eve had to agree since they had made it with little issue.

Eve carefully opened her sock drawer and unrolled a pair of green socks that were tucked in the back. She slowly pulled out a small sealed beaker full of bright pink liquid. In that moment, it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. She tucked the potion into her pocket, making sure to cover the slight bulge with her long button shirt.

The noise was infinitely louder when she opened the bedroom door; the boys were all scrambling around; obviously trying to locate the last of their possessions to cram into their trunks. She was nearly barreled over by Charlie as he hurried down the stairs.

"Sorry!" he said, barely stopping to look at her. "Almost forgot my broom cleaning kit!" He disappeared around the winding staircase. Eve calmly followed him down the stairs towards the kitchen. Her nostrils filled with with an enticing scent.

Molly was cooking breakfast and the entire bottom floor was filled with the the delicious aroma of bacon and eggs. Ron and Ginny were already at the table, enjoying their meals, and since it was a special occasion, Arthur had taken the morning off and was enjoying the spoils of his wife's cooking with his youngest children. The boys attending Hogwarts - however - were nowhere to be seen,though they certainly could be heard running around the home.

"Good morning, Eve," Molly greeted her with a toothy smile. "Would you like some eggs?"

"Mornin'," she yawned. "And yes, please."

The woman nodded and returned her attention to the stove. Arthur gave her a warm smile, Ginny waved, and Ron mumbled something that Eve assumed to be a greeting, but his mouth was so full of food that it was impossible to tell. Eve sat down on the wooden stool next to Ginny, trying to avoid looking at the disgusting display of gluttony in front of her.

The steps creaked from across the room. Eve turned to see Percy walking down the stairs, his expression quite serene compared to Charlie's; he had obviously packed ahead of time. The two of them shared a knowing glance. Percy refused eggs and instead picked an apple from the fruit bowl on the counter, choosing to stand rather than sit at the table. He gave her a slight nod, his lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. Eve blinked slowly with a similar smile, making sure not to draw the attention of the others in the kitchen.

The relative quiet of the kitchen was abruptly interrupted by the clamor of the twins scrambling down the stairs.

"Oi, Percy!" Fred shouted as he reached the landing. "Where is that first year Charm textbook at?"

"I already gave it to you."

"No, that was the Transfiguration textbook," George insisted.

"Ehhh…." Percy shrugged, "I'm almost certain I gave it to you the other day."

"Bullocks!"

"Boys!" Mrs. Weasley interjected. She pointed at Fred with accusing finger. "If I hear another word like that out of you again, you'll be boarding the train with your mouth hexed shut...Percy, will you _please_ double-check with the boys to make sure you don't have it?"

"Alright, fine." Percy huffed, tossing his apple core out the window (where it would surely be eaten by the obnoxious gnomes that live there.) He shot Eve an expectant look before trudging up the stairs. Eve waited until the boys gone up the stairs to make her move.

"Whutchoo leaf'n fur?" Ron asked with a mouthful of bacon, eyeing her barely touched her food.

"Bathroom, if you must know," Eve sighed. She had half a mind to tell the boy that his table manners were horrendous, but she want to make a scene. Right now, she was a girl on a mission.

* * *

All in all, sneaking in and out of the twins room had been quite easy. Percy had stalled them long enough by searching with them for a textbook that he had purposely misplaced. Eve was able to complete her task and return to the breakfast table without raising any suspicion. Unfortunately, she did not have enough time to enjoy her eggs and bacon, because the entire Weasley clan was now beginning to run late. Eve found herself being swept away in the red-headed heard to the train station at Kings Cross.

Eve had never been to a train station before and the one in London was massive to her. Non-magical people bustled around them with their luggage and carts (which she learned were called trolleys) as they rushed to their destinations. Why did wizards take a non-magical transportation system to Hogwarts in the middle of a packed train station? Wasn't their world supposed to be a secret? Eve knew there was still so much that she needed to learn.

The Weasleys stood out like sore thumbs at the station with their odd wardrobe. They had attempted to mimic the style of non-magical people. The children were dressed normally enough in jeans and nondescript t-shirts, but Molly and Arthur wore and mismatched clothing in bright, unsightly colors. Eve didn't have the heart to tell them that they reminded her of eccentric nomadic hippies.

Oddly enough, nobody seemed to notice the parade of bizarre redheads, so she chose to silently walk alongside of Percy as they dodged through the crowds. Percy, like his other brothers, had secured himself a trolley and was pushing it forward while Eve was left to carry his pet rat, Scabbers in his tiny little cage. Scabbers was a fat, ugly little rodent with a missing finger on one of his paws, and he was apparently ridiculously old for a rat, since Percy claimed to have had him since early childhood. She supposed it was because he was a magical rat. But magical or not, she felt pretty ridiculous about carry a rat through a train station and feared that people would stare at her, but like the rest of the Weasleys, she appeared to be practically invisible to the other travelers around her.

"Here we are," the bespectacled boy said to her as they approached a stone wall that separated Platforms 9 and 10. "Platform 9 ¾. " Eve stared at the wall, then back at the Weasley.

"Am I supposed to be seeing something?"

"Well, not yet. This is only the entrance."

Eve was about to ask what he meant, but Charlie answered her question by jogging straight ahead - right at the wall! Before he would seemingly crash into the length of solid stone, he disappeared. Arthur, Molly, and their youngest followed him without hesitation. Fred and George opted to back up a bit, then ride through the invisible barrier at top speed on their squeaky-wheeled trolleys. Percy lurched his own trolley forward, but Eve did not follow. She had seen the family disappear through the barrier and knew that magic was probably hiding the strange Platform, but there was a deep, primal sensation in her gut that reminded her of the counterintuitive action of running straight into a wall.

"Well, come on," Percy scolded her like he was his child rather than a girl just a few years his junior. She clutched Scabbers cage tightly to her chest before nodding. Eve took a deep breath and gripped his trolley with her free hand as she followed him forward towards the arrangement of red and tan bricks. She closed her eyes and just before the expected impact, there was a brief moment of heavy silence.

Then she was once more surrounded by the echoing sounds of the the station. Daring to open her eyes, Eve was greeted by the sight of children and parents all bustling around. A colorful reflection of the world they had just entered from, Platform 9 ¾ was vibrant with magic. It buzzed in the air so heavily that it tickled her skin slightly.

Parents and their children were gathered by the deep red engine, saying their goodbyes with hugs and tears. The Weasley's no longer stood out in their strange fashion; many families were dressed in similar or completely outdated clothing styles, others wore various colored robes. Eve wondered how they managed to get to the Platform without detection, they would look so out of place in the non-magical world. The children at the station were of various ages; some were hardly older than her, while others were nearly adults - each looked cheerful and lively as they loaded their things onto the Hogwarts Express and conversed with friends.

Eve felt a slight pang of jealousy; she wished she were already eleven; the idea of attending a magical school was just too tantalizing to ignore. Her only solace was reminding herself of how quiet the Weasley house would be with only Ron and Ginny, then she would have enough focus to learn as much as she could about wizarding life. If she was lucky, she would not be too far behind her peers come next September.

Eve said her farewells to Charlie and Percy and even asked the later to write her from time to time, making sure to add an impish smile as she asked. Percy smiled back with a curt nod. After all, she did want to know outcome of their well-crafted prank.

She tried to avoid much contact with the Weasley twins by addressing them with a short and strained goodbye. However, Fred and George saw her discomfort and promptly returned the sentiment with a spine-crushing hug. Eve seized up as they popped her proverbial bubble.

"Goodbye Eveekins!" George said with an exaggerated sniff.

"We'll miss you!" Fred continued with the same level of acted enthusiasm.

Eve flushed with embarrassment; whatever doubts she had about the prank were as crushed as her spine. Her only regret now was that she wouldn't be there to see their faces when it happened. She forced a large, toothy smile back at them.

Mrs. Weasley cried as the boys boarded the train as her husband comfortingly patted her back. Ron and Ginny gave melancholic waves as the Hogwarts Express left the station. Eve waved her hand a couple of times, only to sharply bring it back down when the twins began blowing kisses with theatrical dramatism. Eve scowled and she saw Ron shake his head, but it made Ginny and Molly laugh.

* * *

The next morning was a polar opposite of the day before. Eve had slept in as there were echoing sounds of stomping or panic. It was late morning when she managed to roll out of bed and make her way downstairs.

Eve was far more content with the quieter atmosphere of the Weasley household when it was just Arthur, Molly, Ron, and Ginny. Dinner the night before was a lovely affair for her as she was able to enjoy her meal without having her fork turn into a giant worm or her cup bite her nose. She was equally excited about the upcoming breakfast.

Ginny and Ron were already awake and were busily scratching away at their yellow paper with their quills, apparently having finished breakfast.

"Good morning, Eve!" Molly greeted with her usual cheer.

"Am I … late?" Eve asked, racking her brain for any conversation or indication that she was supposed to be up early this morning. "I'm sorry…"

"No, no!" the woman assured her. "It was completely my fault for forgetting to mention it to you yesterday. I make sure _all_ of my children begin lessons at the start of the school year; gets them prepared for Hogwarts," she explained. "I was going to wake you, but you looked like you needed the rest."

"Lucky," she heard Ron cough from the table. Molly shot him a withering look. Her son's ears went bright red as he attempted to look engrossed in his work.

"Let's get you some breakfast first," she said, leading Eve to the table. "Then we can work on basic writing." Eve nodded in agreement and took her seat next to Ginny at the table. She and Ron appeared to be working on maths, which seemed extra difficult when writing with ink. She stared at their papers as Mrs. Weasley clanked a few pots and pans in the kitchen.

"Ummm," Eve said, choosing her next words carefully. "That is not correct," she pointed to one of Ginny's equations on the page. "You forgot to carry the one."

"Oh," Ginny huffed, pausing. She scratched out her old work on the problem and recalculated it again. "Thanks."

"Hey, no fair!" Ron grumbled. "How come you're helping her?"

"How so?" Eve rebutted, staring at his paper. "All your answers are correct." Ron grumbled something but returned his attention to his own paper

"Yeah, he's good at maths," Ginny said with a hint of jealousy. "And you seem to be good at them too." With an annoyed huff, she scribbled out another wrong answer where she made a similar mistake.

Eve was about to respond when a familiar tap sounded from the window. A large and scruffy barn owl pecked at the pane. Mrs. Weasley opened the window with a frown.

"I swear on Merlin's boots if those two have already gotten themselves into trouble…" Molly huffed as she untied the rolls of paper fastened to the owl's leg. "Oh, good," she sighed upon examination. "It's from Percy." She tore open the letter and scanned its contents.

"Oh! How wonderful; the twins were both sorted into Gryffindor!" she said cheerfully. Ron and Ginny cheered while Eve just tilted her head in confusion. Was Gryffindor a good thing? Was it better than the other houses? Mrs. Weasley shushed them as she continued reading… "PINK ROBES? What on earth did those two do to their clothes?!"

Eve refused to look up from the table for fear of revealing any guilt.

"They're positively barmy, those two," Ron said with snort. "Not surprised they'd want to show off." Ginny giggled into her hands, the idea just too funny for her to hold in.

"All the boys send their well wishes," Molly finished with a shake of her head. "Well, at least they haven't blown anything up yet." She rustled through the papers in her hand. "Oh, Eve, it looks like Percy sent you a letter. How sweet of him!"

Molly handed Eve a small envelope addressed with her name in Percy's slanted scrawl. Still refusing to look the woman in the eye, Eve grabbed it eagerly. She opened the envelope and two scraps of paper fell out onto the table. She grabbed the larger of the two and read:

 _Eve,_

 _Your idea worked beautifully. The twins had no choice but to wear their robes off of the train. Unfortunately, one of the professors must have fixed their robes before they entered the Great Hall, because they were far less pink during the feast. (Of course they flaunted it, rather than try to hide it, but I'm sure they got the message.)_

 _Best,_

 _Percy_

Eve could feel Ginny reading over her shoulder, her mouth agape.

"You?" she mouthed behind her mother's turned back as she continued preparing Eve's breakfast."

"Oi! Hand it over!" Ron huffed impatiently and a little more loudly than necessary. With a defeated sigh, Eve handed it over before he created a scene. He slowly read through Percy's letter."

"You? How?!" he exclaimed, causing the two girls to hush him.

"I'll tell you later," she hissed through her teeth. The boy nodded.

"So, what does the other say?" Ginny asked, pointing at the small scrap of paper. Eve picked it up and turned it over. The handwriting was definitely not Percy's, it was far more messy and sharp. She heard Ron get out of his seat over to her side of the table.

 _Congrats on growing a backbone, we knew you could do it! It was a revenge prank worthy of a true prankster! A color-dying potion - we now know not to mess with you, Snapeling._

 _Kisses,_

 _Gred and Forge_

Eve made a disgusted face; who signed off with "kisses?"

"Ugh," Ginny scoffed. "What an awful thing to call you!" She pointed to the nickname at the end of the page."

Eve shrugged. It was far from the worst thing she had ever been called. It was like a mix between 'Snape' and 'hatchling.' She couldn't deny that she looked like a mini Severus Snape.

"Eh, I actually kind of like it."

* * *

A/N: and like that, the Snapeling was born.


	6. 1989, Chapter 5

A/N: Don't mind the character development. Not the most exciting chapter, but I'm saving that for chapter six and seven... So, enjoy anyways!

* * *

Chapter 5: Letters

(October 1989)

Out of all the the things Eve had learned about the magical world from the Weasleys, writing with a quill was by far the hardest thing for her to grasp. Ink was blotchy and hard to control; sometimes it dripped onto the parchment in messy blots, or smeared at the slightest provocation, and making a mistake was far more difficult to fix than with a pencil.

With determination, she slowly scrawled out a letter to Percy, whom she had been writing to for practice. Their letters were short, but Percy always managed to write something back despite his constant studying. Molly thought their pen pal relationship was _the_ _sweetest thing,_ and useful for honing her writing skills.

 _Dear Percy,_

 _The twins rote Ginny that their are vampires and werewolves in the Forbidden Forest outside of the shc-_

Eve huffed in annoyance and grabbed her sand eraser, making sure the ink dried a bit before she attacked the mistake. With another huff, she returned to writing.

 _\- school. Is this true? I don't think I belive them, but I can't be sure._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Eve_

Eve sat back and inspected her handiwork. It still looked like she had written it blindfolded, but at least there were only a couple smears this time. Besides, Percy had managed to decipher her scrawlings before. Now the fun part was tying it to the Weasley's bird, Errol.

Errol was a big, clumsy, and rather stupid owl. Molly said it was because he was so old, but Eve had to wonder if it had brain damage from all the times it had flown into windows. Luckily, he didn't tend to bite, even if she struggled to tie a message onto his leg.

"Molly, can I borrow Errol?" Eve asked as she peered into the small washing room where Mrs. Weasley was busy taking care of laundry. Shirts and trousers were folding themselves neatly into separate piles as the woman took them off of the clothesline.

"Sending another letter to Percy?" she asked without turning around.

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright, but try not to send him again this week; those trips to Hogwarts and back take a lot out of the poor thing."

"Ok."

"Then if you could take your clean clothes up to your room, that would be very helpful," she added, pointing to the nearest stack.

"I will," Eve said with a nod before taking her leave.

"Oh, Eve!" Mrs. Weasley called from the doorway. Eve turned around, doing her best not to look annoyed.

"Before you send Errol out, why don't you write a letter to your father? You haven't sent him one yet and I'm sure he would love to hear from you."

Eve really tried not to make a face. She wasn't sure Severus Snape was one for idle letter writing. She highly doubted he would _love_ a letter from her.

"Well, it will be more practice for you," Molly said with a finality that ended any potential argument.

Being perfectly well-behaved, Eve agreed with sigh. Okay, she would write a letter to her father.

Eve stared at the blank parchment on the table. She didn't know how to start. How should she even address him? Had she ever actually _called_ him "father"? She usually addressed him as "sir," but that sounded strange in a letter. Using his first name would probably be rude, and "dad" was so far out of the question that she snorted aloud in amusement at the very idea…

 _Father,_

 _I am doing well at the Weasley's. I have learned so much about being a witch, and the hardest part so far is praticing to write with a quil. It's very messy!_

 _I hope your classes are going well._

 _Eve_

It was very short and simple...and utterly boring. Eve knew she could write him a novel on all the things she learned and experienced and all the questions she still had, but the last thing she wanted to do was bother Severus Snape. So, like with Percy, she settled for something that wouldn't take more than a minute to read. Well, at least she fulfilled her obligation to Mrs. Weasley.

* * *

It was wonderfully calm October day; little wind, not too hot or cold. It was the perfect day for enjoying the outdoors before the bitter chill of winter took over.

It was also a Saturday, meaning none of them had studies. Ginny and Ron begged Eve to teach them "Muggle games" all afternoon.

She had wanted to show them how to skateboard (and perhaps impress them with a few tricks), but there were no paved roads in sight. Eve didn't know the rules of soccer or football, so she tried to teach them baseball. Luckily, Ron had an old toy Quaffle around the size and weight of a baseball, and Ginny helped her manage to find a large stick to use as the bat. Eve had to create a more abridged version of the game in order to accommodate only three people.

"Pitch more with your body. Don't just fling your arm!" Eve called out to Ron as she struggled to catch the horribly-aimed ball. Ginny swung the bat despite the fact it had come nowhere near her.

"I'm trying!"

"Nu uh!" Eve scoffed, throwing the ball back to him. At least he could catch well.

"Also, ball one Ginny. If you don't think he'll get the ball close enough, don't swing at all."

"Right," the eight-year-old agreed, gripping the stick with fiery determination.

"Now pitch like you mean it!" Eve shouted.

Ron pitched the ball hard and aimed well within a reasonable zone. Ginny swung and missed- but only just so. Apparently, Ron could throw well when he actually listened to her.

"What did I tell you?" Eve smirked at the expression a pride on the boy's face.

"Yeah, you were right…" he responded heartily, as though finally realizing that there was actually some merit to her chasizing. Eve gave him a wiry smile.

"Okay, let's see that again!" Eve tossed the ball back to the boy.

Ron pauses before winding back to throw the mini Quaffle, but he stopped mid-motion, squinting at the sky. Eve and Ginny turned to see what he was observing. Something was darting through the air rather erratically, getting closer at an alarming speed. It seemed to be heading right towards them.

Correction...It was heading straight towards her.

"Incoming Errol!" Ginny shouted, dropping her bat and falling to the ground in self-protection. Eve attempted to do the same before the ancient owl barreled straight into her chest. Eve fell to the ground, the wind knocked out of her.

"Oh Merlin, are you okay?" Ginny now stood above her, concern etched into her features.

"Bloody hell!" exclaimed Ron. She could hear him running over to them.

Errol seemed just a befuddled as Eve over the collision. Panting heavily, he stared down at her and let out a cheerful hoot, as though it was truly proud of finding the recipient of the small letter that was fastened to his leg. The bird lightly tapped her face with his beak.

Eve tried to inhale slowly, but it hurt to do so.

"Nutty bird," Ron huffed, picking up the disheveled owl like a cat. Surprisingly, Errol didn't seem to mind much, and remained content as he was cradled in the boy's arms.

Ginny helped Eve to her feet.

"I'm okay. I just need to rest," Eve gasped. She had head the wind knocked out of her before, and it was far from a pleasant feeling.

"Here," Ron said handing her the letter that he had detached from the bird's leg. "Let's go inside, it's almost lunch anyways, and I'm starving."

After being fussed over by a concerned Mrs. Weasley, the woman had declared that Errol would not be used by anyone for any reason of at least a week as the old bird frantically preened himself on his perch in the corner of the room. Once she was sitting down in the kitchen and having had a full glass of ice-cold water, Eve was finally comfortable enough to read her letter from Percy.

 _Eve,_

 _I honestly don't know all the creatures that live in the forest, but I highly doubt that Headmaster Dumbledore would allow vampires and werewolves live just outside of Hogwarts. I do believe there are creatures like centaurs and unicorns in the woods. I don't take Care of Magical Creatures, but Charlie does. You should ask him if you're truly curious._

 _Best,_

 _Percy_

 _P.S. Please don't send Errol again for a while. He crashed into the head table and landed right in Professor Snape's supper. It would have a been a hilarious sight if he didn't look like he was about to murder the poor thing. I'll be sending mum a letter later next week with a school owl, you could use that one if you like._

Eve envisioned the scene of Errol landing in her father's meal in front of everyone; she imagined the twins had found it hilarious. Poor bird.

She also dreaded a return letter from the man, if he would even decide to write back. Hopefully she wouldn't receive a Howler like Fred and George got from Mrs. Weasley last week after causing some major debacle in one of the greenhouses - something to do with Canadian Creeper Vines. Eve had overheard Molly's vocal recording and couldn't help but feel fear for the two.

* * *

Later that evening, Eve was hanging in the shed with Mr. Weasley while he tinkered with a partly-assembled 1961 Ford Anglia. He pulled random parts from under the hood and observe them, asking Eve what each part was. Eve knew next to nothing about cars, so was tasked with looking through several different automotive books in search of what each part could be. Ron and Ginny had been around to watch earlier, but they had gotten bored quickly and soon left, leaving Eve to her own devices.

"That looks like the spark plug…" Eve said as she flipped through one of the dry volumes. "It delivers electric currant from the ignition system to the combustion chamber of the engine to ignite the compressed fuel and air mixture by an electric spark, while containing the combustion pressure within the engine…"

"Ah, it has to do with 'leckticity, brilliant!" he smiled at the car part like it was the most fascinating thing he had ever witnessed. "Haven't the foggiest of what the rest of it means though…"

"Me neither," Eve shrugged. "And it's pronounced _electricity_."

"E-lec-tricity…" Arthur said slowly. "Right, of course. Thank you."

Eve smiled. She liked hanging around Mr. Weasley when he was home, his fascination with non-magical items was practically insatiable, and Eve enjoyed explaining what she could about the world that she grew up in. Their conversations were always centered around learning - Eve would explain things like proper television and telephone use, while learning about subjects such as the difference between charms and transfiguration spells.

After placing the spark plug aside, Arthur sighed.

"I think that's enough for today. I'll need to do more research on combustion chambers before I continue...sounds like things could get rather messy if things go wrong, and Molly will have my head if I blow the whole place to the moon."

Eve laughed at the thought, but certainly agreed. Molly didn't like Arthur tinkering with the Ford Anglia, believing it to be far too dangerous even without combustion chambers. The last thing she wanted was for all their hard work to go up in flames.

"Whoooo!"

Eve jumped in her seat on the bench, dropping the auto book on the dirt floor. At the entrance of the shed stood the largest owl she had ever seen, holding a small envelope in its beak. Its massive size and long, feathery ear tufts made it look almost menacing. It took a couple of steps in the in the shed, staring at Eve intently with its shiny yellow eyes.

"It looks like you've got some post," Arthur said cheerfully, obviously not intimidated by the feathered beast. Eve finally remembered to breathe, she wasn't sure she would ever get used to large birds suddenly appearing to deliver mail.

Eve cautiously approached the Eagle owl; she had gotten used to tying notes to Errol, but he was much smaller and much more friendly than the one that stood before her. Luckily, this letter wasn't tied to its leg. Upon closing the gap between them, the owl dropped the envelope in her opened hand.

"Sorry, I don't have anything in here to give you," Eve shrugged. "I guess I could grab an owl treat from Errol's dish…"

The owl narrowed its eyes, apparently offended by the suggestion. It gave another low and rumbling hoot before briskly flying away with its frightening wingspan.

"Some owls are content with just mice and such," Arthur assured her. "There are plenty around here for it to find if it wants."

Eve observed the front of the letter, which bore her full first name. Eve huffed with annoyance; three guesses who it was from. Though it did not look like a Howler, she still feared what it might contain. Deciding to open it later in the privacy of her bedroom, she tucked the letter into her pocket.

"Goodness, look at the time!" Arthur exclaimed after observing his pocket watch, which Eve had yet to figure out how it worked since it had no hands. We better inside before Molly makes us kip in here."

"Kip?" Eve asked as they walked through the darkness, lead by the soft glow of the lumos spell.

"Sleep," Arthur answered.

"Is that a Magical word or a British word?"

Arthur laughed.

"British, of course."

Eve sighed. Just when she believed that she was beginning to understand her magical life in the UK, something else would come up, tearing that sensation away.

* * *

Once in bed (after a slight scolding for Molly), Eve stared at the letter in the candlelight. Biting her lip, she opened the envelope slowly. The letter inside was small, featuring her father's cramped handwriting. Eve squinted to read it.

 _Evangeline,_

 _Good to see you're working on your writing, Molly Weasley says that is where you struggle most in your studies. Continue to work on your spelling - its "practice" and "quill", by the way. I suggest picking up your hand more after each word to prevent smudging. With_ _practice_ _, your writing should be passable by next year, which is more than I can say about this year's newest students._

 _So, to answer your question: classes are less than ideal._

 _Regards,_

 _S.S._

Eve let out a sigh of relief. At least he had not brought up the debacle with Errol; she was relieved that she wasn't in trouble, and while the letter was dry and formal, it at least was instructive criticism. She was awful at spelling. Perhaps the Weasley's had a dictionary for her to use in the future. As for the handwriting tip, Eve resolved to try it the next morning.

Yawning, she dropped the letter on the nightstand and tucked under the covers. The magical candle slowly extinguished itself, leaving Eve to settle in the darkness.


	7. 1989, Chapter 6

A/N: It has been a hot minute, but I have been working on Eve's story. I have the next few chapters written out and will be posting them weekly. The next few chapters will follow the same system - snippets of Eve's first year in the magical world. I hope to average about 10 chapters per each year Eve is at Hogwarts and those chapters will flow more like a chapter book than they do now. So sit tight, and enjoy the adventure.

* * *

Chapter 6: The Breakdown

(November 1989)

October jumped into November with a cold snap, and the desire to go outside had dwindled. Eve had spent several days indoors either humoring Ginny with some of her more girly activities. (Eve was currently sporting nail polish that changed with the weather.)

However, Ginny was feeling ill that afternoon, leaving Eve to play chess with Ron. The boy was incredibly skilled at the game and wasn't that bad of a teacher either. Eve had played non-magical chess before, but Wizard's Chess was far more entertaining as the pieces actually attacked each other when occupying the same square. As barbaric as it was, it was one of the more interesting indoor pastimes.

"And that's checkmate!" Ron smiled as his bishop trapped her king. Eve sighed and tapped her currently grey nails onto the table as she contemplated what she could have done wrong. She had been in a sour mood all day, though she couldn't exactly pinpoint the reason why constantly losing each round of chess to Ron was not helping her moral.

"You shouldn't be so protective for your pawns," Ron concluded. "Sometimes you need to sacrifice them to progress."

"But I don't want them to get attacked!"

"They'll be _fine_. It's what they do," Ron assured her, picking up one of her chipped pawns, though old and worn, was not in any discernible pain. "See?"

"Yeah…" Eve understood that, but there was still the primal sensation of wanting to protect her marble army. She didn't really like seeing them get hurt.

"Want to give it another go?" Ron asked.

"No thanks."

"Okay. I'll just read some more " _Martin Miggs,"_ then," he shrugged, grabbing one of the many comics on his mess of a bed.

"The "Mad Muggle" series?" Eve scoffed. "I hate those books."

"They're funny!" Ron said defensively.

"They're _degrading,_ " she said haughty, slightly proud to be using a word she had recently learned in her reading and writing studies. "Muggles are not that stupid."

"Well, Marvin is because he's _mad_!"

"Hmmph," Eve grunted, flopping onto Ron's bed. "As long as you remember that Marvin is just as real as the Harry Potter of these books." She held up the battered copy of " _Harry Potter and the Golden Goblin"_ that Ginny had left in her brother's room.

"But Harry Potter is a real person."

"Yeah, but I doubt an eight-year-old could break into a goblin's treasure room!" Eve scoffed, "The author even has a note of its fiction on the first page."

"Yeah, well. He did defeat You-Know-Who. Who knows how powerful he really is?!"

But Eve did not "Know Who," her introduction to the wizarding world through the Weasleys had come with a brief history through Molly and Arthur, and the gushings of Ginny about the rise and fall of the latest Dark Lord - his life ending at the hands of the infant Harry Potter. But no one would give her a name; the Weasleys refused to say it, which Eve just found silly. This enigma of the nameless dark lord haunted her mind often as the mere notion of not knowing drove her crazy.

Then there was the unlikely hero. The year-old Harry Potter had defeated a looming danger only to then disappear from the wizarding world. Through this, a legend was born; Eve had had a hard time finding factual information about what happened to this Harry Potter - the adults didn't know. The only prominent existence of The-Boy-Who-Lived was in Ginny's children's books.

"Ugh. Whatever," she huffed, choosing not to argue with him, as that never went well. Eve had never had siblings, but in the months that she had been at The Burrow, she supposed that Ron and Ginny were the closest to siblings she would ever have. She actually enjoyed it overall; so what if they could be a bit obnoxious and loud and impossible to reason with? They were nice to her, kept her company, and taught her so much about their secret world.

From a further distance, Percy and Charlie had still kept in contact with her and the family by owl every few weeks. Even the twins recently sent a package to their youngest siblings and to her, which had included a fork for each of them along with a note that made a pun about "having a bite of Hogwarts" or something. Eve shook her head in disbelief, but she kept the piece of silverware, which was currently resting in her suitcase.

Then, of course, there was Molly and Arthur, who treated her like she was just another one of their children. Eve no longer receive the more civil politeness she had been shown when she first arrived at their home, Molly praised and scolded her like she would Ron and Ginny, and Arthur would ask her every third evening which book she would like him to read to the three of them before bed. Little things like that had eased Eve into the Weasley life.

Yes, Eve was happier than she had been in a long time; it was as though she had been unquestionably adopted into the large family. And though she would ever admit it aloud, she sometimes wondered what she would look like with red hair.

The two of them read in silence for a few minutes (a blissful, rare occasion with Ron) as Eve thumbed gingerly through the book and rolled her eyes at the cartoon illustrations that were animated with choppy movements. She felt bad for the real Harry Potter, who would forever be compared to this goofy rendition of himself by the children of the wizarding world. However, their quiet reading was soon interrupted by Molly, who had appeared in the doorway.

"I had to make sure all my children hadn't disappeared," she chuckled when she saw the two of them reading. "A quiet house with children in it is almost never a good sign."

"We're not Fred and George, mum," Ron said, setting his comic book back onto the small stack on the floor.

"Yes, those two hardly know the meaning of quiet. But, they also remembered to feed the chickens each morning." She said pointedly. Ron's ears went red as he stood up quickly. Eve wanted to snicker; Ron was often forgetful about chores.

"Sorry, mum."

"Go on and do it, and check for any eggs."

"Yes, mum."

"Eve, dear, you also promised me last week that you would assist me with brewing a wood-polishing potion and help me clean the mantel today."

"Oops," Eve gasped, feeling her own face heat up with embarrassment. "Sorry, mum."

"Well, go and -"

But Eve couldn't hear the rest. She dropped the book in her hands as every muscle in her body froze, the air was caught in her lungs and she couldn't breathe. The world around her felt like it had gone cold. She felt horrible. She was horrible. A terrible daughter.

Neither Molly or Ron seemed to had noticed her biggest mistake. Worse than any poor performance or a forgotten chore. Eve felt her stomach churn.

"Eve, you okay?" Ron asked just before she bolted to the bathroom.

Eve had spent several minutes emptying the content of her stomach into the toilet. Her limbs shook slightly as she stood up to wash her hands. She had been under the watchful eye of Molly since she had entered the bathroom; she had held her hair back when she had thrown up, eliminated the smell with a wave of her wand, and conjured her a glass of water for her after the ordeal.

"Oh dear," Molly tutted as she reached out. Eve tried to shrink away, but the woman was persistent.

"You do feel a little warm, perhaps you caught was Ginevra has, or maybe something at breakfast didn't agree with you…"

Eve's eyes narrowed. Molly still didn't understand, and that made it worse.

"Why don't you go have a lie-down and I'll bring you a potion to soothe your stomach?" Molly insisted in her most maternal voice.

"No!" Eve hissed harshly, pushing the woman away. She didn't want to feel better, nor did she deserve it. Right now, she needed to be as far away from Molly and the Weasley children. She pushed by the bewildered woman and rushed down the stairs to Bill's room.

Slamming the door behind her, her eyes let loose the tears that she had been holding. How could she call another woman her mother? It hadn't even been a year since…

A strong chill ran down Eve's spine as another realization hit her, and she found herself scrambling over to the desk in the far corner. Eve flipped through the Chudley Cannons calendar on the wall that she had been neglecting since it self-marked the days. Still on the month of September, Eve flipped to November where Keeper Rory Twillis dived to catch the quaffle. Eyeing through the marked dates, Eve noted that today was the 17th. Her heart sank.

Her mother had died November 14th of last year.

The anniversary of Renee's death had been three days ago and Eve had managed to forget. Even worse, she had just called another woman her mother just days after the anniversary of that tragic day.

Eve felt like the worst child in the world. She had become so absorbed in this magical life that she hadn't really thought about her mother in the past few weeks. The realization of the date came crashing down on her, overwhelming her in with emotion. The wound of her loss had been reopened, and her faux pas had become the icing on top of it all. It stung worse than it did the day she died and the weeks that had followed it.

She heard Mrs. Weasley knock on the door.

"Go away!" shouted over her shoulder. She did not want to see anyone right now, especially her. Thankfully, the woman did not force the issue and eventually left.

* * *

She had dismissed Mrs. Weasley an additional three times that afternoon, rejecting her coaxing with snacks and dinner. She begged Molly to leave her alone each time, the woman sounding increasingly worried about her with each attempt, but continued to respect her space even when she refused supper.

Ron even tried to come in at one point, but Eve shouted at him, causing the young boy to scurry off in a huff. Eve instantly regretted shouting, but could hardly take it back.

Eve was now camping under Bill's bed along with half a Gobstones set and some empty boxes of Bertie Bott's Beans. Ever since she could remember, Eve enjoyed hiding under the bed. She had done it when she had been afraid of thunder at the age of six, during the rare occurrence that her mother would ground her, and she had spent a lot of time under her bed at the Jensen's when she wanted to escape their insanity. It was a strange source of comfort for her.

Eve hugged the pillow that she had taken under the bed wither her. She had stopped crying a while ago, but it was still damp on the one side. With her free hand she held a severely worn and creased photo of her and her mother the summer they went to an amusement park. Both of them were smiling at the camera, obviously being held by some kind stranger or park worker. Even at the age of eight, she had not been too much shorter than her mother, who was incredibly short for a grown woman. She wondered if she was as tall as her now...

The sound of the door handle rattling broke the calm quiet of the room. It was followed by a soft click and the slight creak of the door. Eve supposed it was Molly, ready to force-feed her supper if necessary, or perhaps Arthur who would just have recently returned home, as he was always good at diffusing tense situations. She couldn't see past the bed skirt but could hear the sound of footsteps entering the room and approach the bed. They paused, only to be replaced by the sound of the desk chair moving. She heard them sit down without a word. The air quickly grew heavy in her hiding spot as the intruder remained silent for several moments.

"You're either under the bed or hiding in the wardrobe," a harsh and familiar voice said. "Is there a reason you're choosing to hide?"

Eve froze. She had not been expecting the footsteps to belong to Severus Snape. Though she supposed that it wasn't too strange that her father had made an appearance, the thought that Molly would contact him over her bizarre behavior had never crossed her mind. Tucking the photograph into her pocket, she mustered the courage to move.

With another shaky breath, she crawled out from under the bed. She stood up, taking great care to not turn towards her father and opting to stare out the window instead. The sun hung low on the horizon, the clouds in the sky reflecting the beautiful oranges and red colors. It was later than she thought.

"Sit down." It did not sound like a suggestion.

Eve sat crisscrossed on the bed, still refusing to look at the man. She did not want to face anyone right now.

"Look at me."

Eve shrunk into herself. She feared that if she looked at him, she would start crying again.

"Molly said you were suddenly ill this morning, then you locked yourself in this room and that you have refused all visitors and suggestions to leave, and that everyone is unsure why. Do you mind explaining yourself to me?"

Eve struggled to form words. Would he be just as disgusted with her as she was with herself? She could feel his eyes upon her, pressing her to answer.

"I -," she started, fumbling with the words that came out of her mouth. "I called Mrs. Weasley 'mum'."

There was a long pause that filled the bedroom with uncertainty.

"An easy slip of the tongue," Severus Snape said, finally breaking the silence. "Molly is a mother of seven children, all of whom call her that. Since she is caring for you alongside her other children, it is not unexpected that you subconsciously picked up on calling her 'mum'. There is no fault in that."

"You don't understand!" she shouted, finally looking the man in the eye. Anger boiled in her gut, and she had the slight satisfaction of seeing her father's expression change to one of mild surprise.

...It was three days ago!" Eve continued, pointing to the calendar next to him. "My mom died one year and three days ago, and I managed to forget it! So many things have changed this year that it feels like she died so long ago. I feel like I'm forgetting her - and now it's like I'm replacing her! What kind of daughter does that make me?!"

Her shouting had dissolved into a croak as she buried her face into her hands, feeling more tears building up in her eyes. The bed began shaking violently underneath her. A lifetime ago, she would have been terrified, but now the bought of accidental magic just made her feel more enraged; it could crash through the floor for all she cared.

"Evangeline...Eve. Stop." She felt her father's hands grip her shoulders tightly. "Breathe."

The steady coolness of his voice coaxed her to calm herself down. Slowly, the bed stopped moving. She felt his grip loosen and then retreat, but she still kept her eyes covered, too drained to open them. She heard her father sigh and felt the bed shift as he sat down next to her.

"The human kind."

Eve sniffed and wiped a sleeve across her red and blotchy face.

"What?" she sniffled.

"It makes you a human; you have experienced several drastic changes in a year, enough to make anyone's head spin," her father clarified. "No one would fault you for such things."

Eve pondered his words. What he said sounded logical, but the sinking feeling still gripped her tightly.

"But do you _know_ if she would forgive me?"

"No, I suppose not." Severus Snape sighed and the deafening silence returned. Eve felt silly because she knew her mother was a loving and easygoing person; she probably would have found it funny. Despite this, there was a small nagging voice inside Eve that wouldn't let the issue go. She wrapped her arms around her legs and stared at the floor in contemplation.

"How...how can I help you?"

Eve peered at Severus Snape through her peripheral. Had he just asked her how he could help? Weren't parents just supposed to know what to do?

Lifting her head from her knees, she studied the man. She had become used to the slightly-aged faces of Molly and Arthur, complete with faint creases and lines of wisdom. Her father looked much younger than them despite his sallow appearance, and in that moment, his expression was not one of sternness or the strong confidence of a parent, but that of confusion. He looked just as lost as she felt.

"I…" Eve trailed off. What _would_ make her feel better? She wished she could see her mother and talk to her one more time, but that was impossible. There was, however, something that could feasibly be done.

"I want to visit my mother...Her grave, I mean," Eve said slowly. She hadn't been to the cemetery since the day they buried her mother. It just felt right to go and visit her, and now that she had said it aloud, it had become her greatest desire. She knew it was a long shot since Wisconsin was practically on the other side of the world. For a minute, her father stared out the bedroom window, the last hints of light had now morphed into inky blackness.

"I can do that," he said finally.

Eve sniffed again, but this time there were no tears.

"Thank you."

Her father nodded. "Now make sure you're up early Saturday morning and that you dress warmly. We'll be spending the day in Wisconsin, after all." He got up from the bed and began to walk away.

Eve couldn't help but smile, her fingers traced the edges of the photograph in her pocket. She was going to see her mother and she got to see a different aspect of her father; he was more than just an intimidating school teacher, and it felt good to know that.

* * *

They left The Burrow just after breakfast Saturday morning and used the Weasley's fireplace to floo to the International Floo Station.

Eve had been through the International Floo Network before; it was a large building with long lines and checkpoints and could be best described as a windowless airport. They had to provide yellow-bound passports and forms of identification in order to receive tickets. Her father paid for the tickets up front, and from what Eve had learned about wizarding money, she realized her father was paying a rather large sum to travel directly to Wisconsin. Eve found herself blushing with embarrassment and thanked him again, to which he only nodded in return.

The fireplaces of the International Floo Network had countless fireplaces of various sizes, but all of them appeared larger than the average fireplace. They found themselves walking into a huge fireplace the size of the Weasley's living room with dozens of other people, and had to cram themselves into the space filled with people and their luggage. Eve had to stand next to an older witch with some pink ermine-looking creature on her shoulder. Eve smiled at the creature,but it returned her gesture with a gurgling growl, and Eve found herself practically stepping on her father's feet to get away from it.

The travel was practically instantaneous. One moment they had been in the UK, and the next they were in the United States. This Floo Station was just as large as the last, but the New York Station had a skylight that showed the inky blackness of the night sky. Eve dragged her feet as she stared at the beautiful full moon. Severus roughly grabbed her wrist and chastised her about the potential of getting lost as he led her to their next Floo transfer. Where they had to wait several hours in uncomfortable chairs for their Floo to Wisconsin, but unlike the mundane atmosphere of an airport, the station was filled with colorful characters and creatures. She was fascinated by a group of Australian teens near them that were part of a Gobstones team and were practicing in the waiting area while they joked around. One of the girls even showed her how to properly launch a Gobstone after Eve had bucked up the courage to ask her about the game. She got to play the game for a little while before the teens had to leave for their destination.

Then there was the circus that came through, at least that's what she assumed since it was a large group of people dressed in flamboyant clothing, each of which was either carrying cages or leading animals on leashes. She wanted to ask her father about each creature that passed by, but she settled on asking a different question.

"Do you have a book on magical creatures I could read?"

"I may; I'll take a look," her father said without looking up from his newspaper. Eve nodded; she was usually hesitant about asking him questions, except when it related to potions or books; he usually answered positively to those types of questions.

The skylight showed the inklings of the orange-red of the rising sun when the Floo was ready to depart. This particular fireplace was much smaller than the last, and the only other occupants were a young couple and an ancient looking wizard who smelled of burnt sugar.

The Wisconsin Floo station was jarringly small compared to the other two; there were only a small handful of other fireplaces, and a single receptionist sitting at a desk with a bored expression on her face.

"Are you apperating to your destination, or should I call you a cab?" she asked them when they approached her. To her surprise, her father ordered a cab, and the young woman reached for an ancient woodbox telephone that Eve had only seen in black and white movies. She spoke for a few minutes on the phone before telling them to wait for a few minutes for the taxi to arrive.

The air greeted them with a crisp and cold chill as they stepped outside. The fallen leaves danced with each blow while the scant few still clung to their branches. Eve breathed deeply; she had missed Wisconsin so very much. The station behind them was an old church, with a sign on the door that read: "Condemned", and she wondered how many abandoned buildings in the world were actually hiding magic.

The cab itself appeared to be completely normal and the driver wore jeans and sweatshirt. He waved them in and her father stepped into the vehicle unceremoniously, but Eve found herself rooted to the ground; she had developed an unhealthy fear of cars since the accident and was quite happy that wizards did not seem to use them.

"You okay, kid?" the driver asked in his familiar midwest accent. Eve could see her father staring at her from behind the young man's shoulder.

"Uh, yeah…" Eve exhaled shakily. She had been in cars since her mother's death. She knew she could do it. Shutting her eyes tightly, she swung open the door and sat down haphazardly in the seat, only opening her eyes to buckle herself in.

Eve tried to keep herself calm the entire ride by keeping her head down and her eyes shut. She intently listened to the driver as a distraction as he began a spiel about blending into "No-Mag" society and basic proper etiquette for the area. She debated telling the driver she had grown up here and didn't need the lecture, but she held her tongue since she knew her father was wearing his usual black robes. Otherwise, the ride had been blissfully uneventful.

"Well, this is your stop," the driver said after what felt like an eternity for her. She opened her eyes as they pulled up the wrought-iron fencing of the cemetery. "Will you be needing a ride anywhere else today?"

"No thank you," her father said. "We know our way to the station now." Eve sighed with relief. The less time she had to spend around cars, the better.

The driver nodded and held out his hand to be paid, her father dropped a few Galleons in his hand as Eve stepped out of the car and stared at the rows of graves just beyond the fence as took a deep breath. She heard the taxi pull away and the soft crunch of her father walking behind her. As he stood beside her, she noticed that his robes were now replaced with black pants and a dark coat - appearing much more mundane than just minutes ago. They shared a glance, and Eve led them forward.

They walked through the dusting of snow upon the grass, leaving a brownish-green path behind them. Eve had only been in this graveyard once before, but she knew exactly where her mother was buried.

Her mother's grave was a nondescript marble stone that was low to the ground near the center of the cemetery. She stared down at the polished hunk of rock that now represented the remains of Renee, saddened by what a wonderful person and mother had been reduced to. Her father stood next to her with his usual unreadable expression as he stared down at the grave.

"Did you love each other?" Eve blurted the second the thought crossed her mind.

"No," he replied firmly. Before she could question further, he turned away from the grave towards a nearby bench, leaving Eve alone with her thoughts. She found herself sobered by the notion; she supposed love wasn't necessary to produce a child, but it still saddened her and added a layer of curiosity to how she came to be, but she didn't dare ask. At least, not now.

Eve sighed and knelt down in front of the grave, the snow dampening her legs as she made herself comfortable.

"Hey, mom," she croaked before clearing her throat. It felt weird to talk to a grave, but it also felt right. "I've got a lot of things to tell you."

Eve wasn't sure how long she had talked to her mother's grave, but it was long enough for her legs to feel completely frozen over. She had told her mother everything that transpired over the past year; from her stay in foster care, her discovery of magic, her father and their home at Spinner's End, her second home at the Weasley's, and everything in-between, including the catalyst for her visit. It felt good to tell her mother everything whether or not her mother could actually hear her. As she ran out of topics to discuss, the chilling pain of her legs drove her to stand back up. With a final glance at her mother's grave, Eve walked away feeling lighter.

* * *

A/N: I wanted to touch more upon Eve's grief of losing her mother; it will always be a part of her and how she approaches the world around her.


	8. 1989, Chapter 7

Chapter 7: Happy Christmas

(December 1989)

Christmas had constantly been on Eve's brain since the first of December because the Weasley's home practically oozed the season with a large number of holiday decorations. The Weasley's had vanished some of the chairs in the living room and replaced them with a large and plump fir tree, which Eve and Ginny helped decorate with popcorn and cranberry tinsel while Ron added handmade paper ornaments as high as they could reach. Eve had never seen a Christmas tree without sparkly gold or silver tinsel and glass ornaments, but she thought she like their handmade decorations better - even if they needed constant upkeep because Errol would try to eat them.

Handmade was a theme amongst the Weasley's gifts a well; Molly was busy with knitted sweaters for her children and making sweets for the neighbors, Ron was occupying his time with handmade cards, and Ginny had holed herself in her room to work on her own knitted crafts. Eve was at a loss for what to do for her own gifts - she had no money or crafting skills, but she wanted to do something for the Weasley family. She had spent the better of two weeks trying to come up with something, but nothing had come to mind, so Eve decided to seek some help.

She knocked on Ginny's door one morning after breakfast. After being welcomed in, Eve found the younger girl stationed at her bed as she expertly turned and clicked the pair of knitting needles, the beginnings of a blue hat hung off of one of the needles.

"Hey, Ginny? Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah..?" the girl said slowly, barely looking up from her project.

"I don't know what to get you guys for Christmas, and I was wondering if you could show me how to knit so I could make something?"

"Sure!" Ginny smiled, setting her needles down. "But I'm not showing you how to make hats; that's my gift for the year."

She motioned Eve over to the bed and handed her a pair of wooden needles as she sat down. Eve took them awkwardly, she had never held knitting needles before.

"I'll show you how to make a scarf. Mum showed me how when I was five, they're super easy!"

After several attempts many failures over the afternoon, Eve finally felt she had a grasp at the art of knitting. The yellow scarf she was making for Mrs. Weasley was coming along in one way or another.

"It looks a little off…" Eve said, holding up her progress thus far. Some of the loops were a little loose, while others were too tight, and she was pretty sure there was a knot in the yarn in the fifth row.

"It looks fine," Ginny assured her. "Mum will love it...and it doesn't have to be perfect, see?" she added, holding up the blue hat she had just finished. It looked well-made to Eve, but Ginny pointed out a few flaws around the top of the hat. "Mum says it adds character... besides, this one's for Fred, it'll match his weirdly shaped head." The two of them dissolved into giggles.

Eve enjoyed spending more time with Ginny the more she got to know her. She had become a good friend and little sister in the past couple of months, and she liked being an older sister.

"What color do you want your scarf?" Eve asked as she focused back on her needles.

"Rainbow!" the girl exclaimed, only to dissolve into giggle again at seeing exasperated Eve's expression.

"Only joking, I like lilac," she said, holding out the color of yarn out to her.

"What's your favorite color?" she asked her as Eve took the ball of yarn from her.

"I like purple...like plums or eggplant," Eve said after a moment of debating.

"Hmmm, I'll have to ask mum if she has any yarn in that color because I don't have any."

"Another purple is fine if not."

"I'll ask mum," Ginny nodded.

"I'm not sure how many of these I'll be able to make by Christmas," Eve sighed as she once again examined her painfully slow progress.

"You can ask mum to help make sweets for everyone else if you can't finish them all. I'm pretty sure Charlie would want chocolate more anyways."

Eve smiled, satisfied at the prospect of giving everyone a gift for Christmas.

* * *

The next week flew by as the holiday approached. Eve was happy to be caught up in the festivities of making gifts for everyone on her list, it added some excitement to days usually filled with schoolwork and chores.

"Ugh, I hate wrapping gifts," Ginny scoffed as she fiddled with the brown paper. For as gifted as she was with knitting, her gift wrapping was a mess of poorly taped edges and awkward angles. They were in a hurry to get everything wrapped because the older Weasley children would be returning for the holiday tomorrow afternoon.

"That's why I made cards," Ron said smugly as he played around with his miniature Quaffle on the couch, one of the few remaining pieces of furniture in the crowded living room.

"Here," Eve motion towards Ginny's gift. "I'll help."

Between the two of them, they were able to create something more akin to properly wrapped gifts.

"So what color scarf and hat did you make me?" Ron asked curiously, poking the wrapping of the gift addressed to him.

"Maroon," they answered in unison, smiling devilish grins.

Ron made a disgusted face; they all knew that he hated maroon.

"You'll have to wait and see, Ronald," Ginny teased and stuck out her tongue. The boy huffed and tossed the Quaffle at the ceiling.

"You're lucky to even get a scarf from me," Eve added. I had to give all the older boys sweets instead." Eve had, in fact, ran out of time making her gifts, and had to resort to helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen to finish the remainder of her gift list. Ron gave her a grumpy half-shrug but didn't say anything further.

Eve wished she could stay for Christmas; she wanted to experience the holiday with such a fun and exciting family, but she would be returning to Spinner's End tomorrow. With a sigh, she placed her freshly-wrapped gifts to the Weasleys under their beautiful fir tree. " _Oh, well_ ," she thought to herself. " _At least I'll get to enjoy one more night of Molly's cooking._ "

* * *

Severus Snape arrived late the next morning before the older Weasley boys were off the Hogwarts Express. Eve was a bit bummed that she couldn't see Percy or Charlie for a few minutes before having to leave, but she knew she would be able to see them for a day or so before the holiday break ended, as her father would be returning slightly early to school to prepare for the following semester.

Toting her luggage behind her, she hugged Molly, Ginny, and Ron goodbye before she stepped into the fireplace and was whisked away.

Eve remembered the house on Spinner's End being dull, but the shocking difference between the heavily decorated and bright atmosphere of the Weasley's living room and the dimly-lit living room at Spinner's End was depressing. She held in a groan, not wanting to highlight her dismay to her father, who was opening up the dark curtains to let in the natural light. It didn't do much to brighten the space.

Without another word, Eve hoisted her belongings up the stairs and into her little bedroom, the lack of decor another stark contrast to the eldest Weasley space at the burrow, but Eve had a plan. She opened up her suitcase and pulled out the numerous paper crafts that she, Ginny and Ron had made together. Ron had even gave her some of the old pictures from his Quidditch calendar that he no longer wanted - mostly of players or teams he wasn't fond of, but Eve didn't mind, whatever she could use to fill the space.

She spent several hours making her bedroom decorations _just_ right. Ginny's paper snowflakes filled her sloped wall; a rainbow of colors now hovering over her bed. Ron's had made long lengths of paper chains in red and gold, _Gryffindor colors_ he had proudly stated. The Weasley family had been in Gryffindor for generations, and the young boy often boasted about the house of lions, despite not being sorted himself.

" _What would happen if you were sorted into a different house?" she asked him one a lazy afternoon back at The Burrow._

" _That won't happen," he huffed in annoyance._

" _But what if you were?"_

 _He didn't give her an answer._

Eve pondered this memory as she struggled to attach them to the ceiling with tape. She had partially finished the job by standing on her dresser to reach the height, but there was a section between the dresser and sloped ceiling that she couldn't reach. The dresser was far too heavy for her to move, but she could move the bed.

Proud of her ingenuity, Eve used the bed as a trampoline to slap the sections of the paper chain onto the ceiling. The bed creaked loudly with each jump followed by the dull thud of her hand hitting the ceiling, hanging up the first section had taken a couple of tries, but it was pretty fun.

"What on earth are you doing there?" Severus Snape's voice demanded from behind her closed door. Apparently, she had been a little too loud. Before she could even answer, the door swung open. She watched as his eyes moved from her standing on the bed, following the trail of red and gold up to the ceiling, then back down and across the Quidditch posters and paper snowflakes.

"Ron and Ginny made me some decorations for my room…"

"Yes, I can see that," he drawled. "And you couldn't stop and ask for help instead of jumping around like a hooligan?"

"Errr…" Eve blanched, she hadn't thought to ask, but even if she had thought to do so, she probably wouldn't have. She was still hesitant to ask her father a lot of things for fear of crossing him.

He rolled his eyes and retrieved his wand from his robe pocket and gave it a lazy flick. The garland rose from her hands, drifted up to the ceiling, and gently attached itself to the plaster above. He motioned her to step off the bed, moving back to its original place with another wave.

"Fancy yourself a Gryffindor, I see," he said with an edge of disdain to his voice. Even her father seemed to have an unusual focus on the Hogwarts Houses. Eve shook her head.

"Not really. The Weasley's might all be, but I'm not sure if that's me."

Her father gave her a curt nod.

"Perhaps different colors then?"

As much as Eve wanted to watch her father magically change the color of her decorations, she shook her head.

"No, Ron made those for me. I'd like to keep them the way they are."

He regarded her for a moment before pocketing his wand.

"Next time, don't jump on the bed," he said before leaving the room. He paused for a moment at her doorway and continued. "And wash up before dinner, you look filthy."

Eve glanced down at herself, there were spots of dirt from when she had collected eggs from the chicken coop that morning; she definitely needed a good scrub. She sighed and began to rummage through her suitcase for a clean set of clothes.

* * *

Eve was less than thrilled to be wearing a starchy button-up shirt again, she had taken to wearing some of Ron's or the twin's clothes for the past few months since getting messy was almost an expectation at The Burrow. She arrived in the kitchen for dinner, clean and properly dressed.

"Molly says you are doing well with your lessons," her father said as they sat down to their meal.

"Yeah, my spelling has gotten better and I help her with basic cleaning potions all the time," Eve answered after swallowing her first bite. Her father nodded in approval.

"So, how was...teaching?" Eve asked awkwardly, unsure what else to talk about to desperate to break the oppressing silence of the small kitchen.

"Different year, same imbeciles that I have to deal with," he scoffed. "And those Weasley twins are ridiculously obnoxious, arriving off the train in pink robes..."

Eve had to stop herself from laughing, but it was hard to hide when she had food in her mouth. Her father stared her down, which sobered her enough to calm down and swallow her food. Realizing she may have given herself away, Eve hastily spoke. "I heard, Percy told me in his letters. It sounded funny."

"It was idiotic," her father frowned, "Professor McGonagall could only partially reverse the spell since the colorization was from a color-changing potion and not a charm. How those two managed such a feat when they consistently fail at their practicals in my class is beyond me."

"Maybe someone on the train did it?"

"Perhaps," he mumbled, giving her another skeptical stare before continuing his meal. Not wanting to dwell on that subject any longer, Eve moved the conversation forward.

"Can we decorate?" Now that her room had a bit more color to it, the desire for a more holiday cheer was stronger than before.

"Decorate?"

"For Christmas!" Eve said with exasperation. "A tree, tinsel...that kind of thing."

"I have never really partaken in those festivities."

"Oh," Eve breathed, feeling very deflated. She had never _not_ had a tree for Christmas before, even the Jenisons had decorated for the holiday. Eve suddenly missed the Weasleys even more with their warm and cozy home.

"But if must decorate something, I could easily conjure up a tree in the sitting room."

Initial shock turned into a beaming smile.

"Thank you!" she exclaimed. Her father grunted in return, and she couldn't help but think of Scrooge from a Christmas carol. She could easily imagine him saying "bah-humbug," and the image made her dissolve into giggles. Severus Snape raised an eyebrow, looking thoroughly unamused. Eve managed to calm herself before taking another bite.

* * *

Eve spent the day before Christmas making her own decorations for the tree her father had transfigured from a piece of wood. It was amazing to think that a chunk of wood from outside could be formed into a beautiful spruce tree. It was neither as tall nor as grand as the one at The Burrow, but it was perfect for their living room tucked in the corner near the fireplace.

There was no popcorn or cranberries that Eve could find at Spinner's End, so she made everything from paper, but it took her ages to make her paper chain look anywhere as nice as Ron's, however, her snowflake-making skills were far better and she peppered the tree with unique shapes of red and white.

"Want to make something?" Eve had asked (mostly joking) to her father as he sat down in the large armchair with a book.

"No," he answered without skipping a beat. He flipped open the dog-eared page of his book and began reading.

"Do you at least have an angel or something that could go on top?" Eve questioned, looking at the only bare spot on the tree, the only place she could not reach.

He let out an annoyed huff and pulled out his wand. With a complicated looking motion, he conjured a silver star onto the peak of the tree. Eve stared at it as the familiar feeling a sadness swept over her.

"The Weasleys have done nothing to help your manners," Severus scoffed.

"Oh...I'm sorry...thank you," Eve said slowly, her eyes still fixated on the tree topper.

"Evangeline?"

"Mom had a pretty silver star that we would put on the tree every year just like that one. Only it had flecks of gold on it." She wondered what had become of the ornament amongst all the other things she had left behind when she was placed into foster care.

"Do you want something else on the tree?"

"No," Eve sniffed, feeling the tears slowly building in her eyes. "No, it's perfect." She could see her father staring at her from her peripheral, but he soon returned his attention to his book, possibly because he could see that she was smiling.

* * *

Eve had known her entire life that there was no Santa Claus, but she had been as excited as any other child who celebrated Christmas, but last year had been torture - being stuck with a crazy foster family while missing her mother terribly had created a sleepless and agony-ridden Christmas morning - and this one wasn't great either. The pain was dulled a bit from the year before and the lack of the Jenison family made everything easier, but neither of these factors did anything to help her fall asleep.

Eve stared up at the paper snowflakes above her bed, the trickle of moonlight from her bedroom window cast shadows on the handmade decor. She was exhausted, but her mind was flooded with old memories of her mother.

 _The living room was decorated with silver and gold tinsel, their shimmering colors twisting and weaving between each other while their plastic Christmas tree shined with multi-colored bulbs, tinsel, and glass ornaments, all decorations that they had worked hard on weeks earlier to fill the small apartment. It was Christmas morning and eight-year-old Eve and her mother Renee were opening gifts before the sun had even risen over the horizon._

" _Merry Christmas, sweet pea," her mother grinned as Eve tore the snowman wrapping paper from the oblong item inside._

" _Cool! A skateboard!" Eve exclaimed, examining the bottom of the board which was splashed with colorful, geometric shapes. "I can't wait to use it this summer!"_

" _Look what's on the other side."_

 _Eve flipped the board around, her eyes catching a square newspaper clipping taped to it. It was an article for a new indoor skatepark that had recently opened in a town about an hour away._

" _I figured we could go a couple of times, get some practice in before you go skating with your friends this summer."_

 _Eve wasted no time in giving her mother the biggest bear-hug she could muster. She heard her mother gasped and quickly pulled away to see what was wrong. Her mother was staring at the tree; all the lights and tinsel were now a deep shade of purple._

 _Eve froze. Strange things had happened around her ever since she could remember, some could be explained away, others, like this moment, could not. Eve wanted to panic, as she usually did then those weird things happened, but her mother was as calm and collected as ever._

" _What a lovely color," she remarked, pulling her back into a hug. Eve stared wide-eyed at the tree as Renee gently ran her fingers through her hair._

" _I love you, mom."_

" _I love you too, my very special girl."_

Eve replayed this last Christmas with her mother over and over again in her head. Slowly her thoughts dulled and her eyes drooped at the first pink and purple hues filled the sky.

* * *

She awoke to the bright, blinding rays of sun cascading over her eyelids. With a yawn and a stretch, Eve rolled out of bed. The time on her little wind-up clock read a quarter past ten. After a second yawn, Eve looked out the window into the street below.

It was an unusually nice winter morning, the late morning sun shone on the sludgy patches of snow sprinkled across the brown grass of the tiny yards of the neighborhood. It was a far cry from winter in Wisconsin, but everything was quiet and peaceful.

Eve slowly got dressed and pulled her long and lanky hair into a ponytail. Still exhausted, she made her way downstairs for something to eat.

"You slept in this morning," her father started when she reached the landing. He sat in the same chair with the same book he had been reading the night before. "One would think you would be more excited to open your gifts."

Eve glanced at the small tree at the modest stack of gifts under the tree. Last year, she hadn't received anything and see the gifts filled her with a warm and tingly sensation.

"Can I open them now?"

"That is what they're there for."

She sat down next to the pile of gifts. Most were wrapped in plain brown packaging from the Weasley's, but there were a couple wrapped in deep emerald green. Eve grabbed the largest of the bunch. It was light and squished slightly when she held onto it.

"Hey!" Eve smiled as she unwrapped the gift. "Molly made me a sweater too!" It was made with thick and rich plum-colored yarn and contrasted with a bright yellow 'E' in the center. She quickly put it on with a smile.

"Do not forget to thank her," her father said as he turned the page of his book.

"I won't!"

Ron had made her a card that stated that she made " _a pretty cool big sister_ ," the twins had given her a teacup included with a note that said it would bite the nose of anyone who drinks from it; Arthur gave her a non-magical hand radio that he had rigged to play wizarding broadcasting stations; Charlie and Percy had split the cost on a pair of yellow wooly mittens from Hogmead that had a built-in heating charm and matched the trim of her sweater, and even Bill (whom she had never met) gifted her the book " _100 Useful Potions you Need to Know"_ along with a quick note:

 _I heard you were interested in potions, hope you find this useful in the future. Hopefully, we'll be able to meet soon. - Bill_

Eve smiled at the note. Ron and Ginny always gushed about how cool their eldest brother was and she could see why. It was really nice of him to get her such an awesome book, hopefully, she would get to meet him soon.

The green-wrapped gifts were also books; the first was " _Magical Herbs and Plants and their Uses for Potions Making_ ," which her father explained would be beneficial to learn alongside her studies once she entered Hogwarts; the second was labeled " _Proper Etiquette in the Wizarding World_." Eve looked over at her father with a quizzical look.

"You're going to meet many different wizards and witches as you enter the magical world," he explained. "Many who highly prize their ancient culture. It would do you well to read it, memorize it, and implement it whenever possible; you never know who may question your upbringing otherwise."

"What's wrong with my upbringing?" Eve scoffed. The Weasley's didn't seem to care how proper she was or where she came from.

"Nothing, but some people believe those born and raised in the Muggle world are inferior to them, and you must not ever lead them to believe that they are right."

"Then why can't I just be myself? Why do I have to act like them?"

"Because you are witch entering an old world full of traditions and preconceived notions that doesn't always take kindly to those that stray from their viewpoint. Adopting their customs makes you less of a target to them."

Eve glared at the book in disgust.

"That's not fair."

"Nothing in life is," he said with an air of finality. "but I am trying to give you the best tools possible for the future."

Eve let out a huff. She wanted to argue further, but a part of her knew that her father wouldn't have given her the book without a good reason. Were there really wizards and witches out there that hated non-magical people and others like her and why would she ever want to appease such a group? She suddenly remembered something her mother would do. Her mother usually wore long, flowy skirts and poofy blouses, but whenever there was a voting night at the PTA, she would dress in more "fashionable" clothes and would say " _sometimes you have to speak their language in order to be heard."_ Eve never really understood what that meant and she wondered if this was the same kind of thing. With a sigh, she set the book aside, vowing to at least look it over.

The last gift under the tree was from Ginny, it had fallen behind the other gifts, hiding in plain sight. Eve unwrapped the gift with a smile. Ginny had done an amazing job on her hat; she had used the same deep purple fabric as her mother for the base and added thin lines of yellow to create a striped pattern, then topped it all off with a yellow pom at the top. Eve had a complete winter set and couldn't wait to wear them outside. She hoped Ginny like the scarf she had made her; she had worked really hard on each of them…

"Oh!" Eve jumped to her feet. Her father raised an eyebrow. "I forgot something!" She scurried up the stairs back to her bedroom and rummaged through her suitcase until she found another brown package, then raced back down the steps with the item in hand.

"There is no need to run -" her father started before she thrust the package into his lap.

"Merry Christmas!"

Severus Snape looked up at her, then down at the gift in mild confusion. Eve nervously bounced on her toes.

"Are you gonna open it?"

Instead of scolding her for her demanding tone like he normally would, he simply nodded and sat his book on the small coffee table in front of him. Eve watched nervously as she watched her father unwrap the gift, worried that he wouldn't like it.

He stared at the dark fabric for a moment before pulling it out of the box. The knitted black yarn snaked out of its container as he pulled it out.

"Ginny taught me how to knit," Eve explained. "so I made you a scarf." She had redone her father's scarf several times trying to make each knit as uniform as possible, but it still didn't look nearly as good as what Ginny or Molly could make. He stared at it for a moment before doing something Eve had begun to think wasn't possible.

He smiled.

It was small and closed-lipped, but it was a smile.

"That was thoughtful of you, Evangeline. Thank you."

Eve returned his smile with a large grin.


	9. 1990, Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Diagon Alley

(April 1990)

The holidays had ended more quickly than they had begun and even winter had been short-lived this year. Spring had come early at St. Ottery Catchpole and by Eve's birthday, the buds of trees and flowers had appeared on the branches of trees and the grassy earth.

That April second, Eve rose from her bed at The Burrow with a loud yawn and a fulfilling stretch.

She got dressed as usual before heading downstairs to begin her daily routine.

Eve was only slightly surprised to find that her usual routine was disrupted by colorful streamers and a hand-painted poster that read: "Happy Birthday, Eve!" They had done the same for Ron's birthday the month before, but she had never placed much thought on the fact that they would do the same for her.

Molly made Eve's favorite breakfast of french toast even though Eve insisted that she didn't have to.

"It's not every day that a young witch turns eleven!" Molly insisted as she filled a large plate and set it in front of her. Eve smiled up at the woman. She was right; eleven was a very special age as it marked the year she would be attending Hogwarts.

Eve shamelessly stuffed herself with french toast, rivaling Ron at his usual eating habits for this particularly delicious meal. Ginny made a comment about her etiquette but Eve had little time to respond as Errol crash-landed into the breakfast table, followed by a larger brown owl that gracefully landed behind him.

"That poor bird," cooed as she picked up the mess of feathers and gingerly placed it onto the owl perch near the window. Errol ruffled his feathers for a moment but dutifully handed over the package that he had been carrying.

"It's for you, dear," Molly said, handing it over to Eve.

"Thank you, Errol," she smiled at the frazzled bird. Errol gave a few satisfied clicks with his beak before tending to his plumage. Eve opened the package to find a broom the size of a pencil and worn piece of parchment, each accompanied by a short note. The first one read:

 _Happy Birthday, Eve!_

 _We weren't sure what to give you for your birthday, but Percy came up with a neat idea and I got to implement my N.E.W.T. level charms...So, we hope you like the model broom we made you. Just give it a light toss and it will fly around the room._

 _-Charlie and Percy_

Eve picked up the tiny broom between her thumb and index finger. Treating it like a dart, she let it go with a flick of her wrist and it gently floated around the room and circled the kitchen a couple of times before softly landing into the table.

"Wicked!" Ron smiled through a mouthful of breakfast.

The second note was from the twins.

 _Happy Day of Birth, Snapeling!_

 _You never told us that we're practically birthday triplets! (Thank you for the color-changing potion by the way; we have plans for it during the final feast this year!)_

Eve grimaced, she knew she would most likely going to regret giving them such a pranking tool for their birthday yesterday, but she was also kind of proud that she had been able to make the more complicated potion alone and without Molly noticing. She continued reading:

 _Because you woefully neglected to tell us that your birthday was so soon, we didn't have the time to find something really special, so we'll give you this parchment we nicked from Filch's office the other day. So far, all it seems to do is insult people who try to read it, but we have a feeling it can do more. Maybe you can figure it out?_

 _XOXO,_

 _Gred and Forge_

Eve picked up the old piece of parchment and it buzzed with strong magic in her hands, but it reminded blank.

"What's that?" Ginny asked, nodding at the parchment she was holding.

"Something stupid, I'm sure," she answered, and as she did, writing appeared on the page with sharp and stilted handwriting.

 _Mr. Padfoot would like to comment that those taking the time to insult a piece of parchment, are by far dumber than the object in question._

Eve rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, just a joke parchment," she concluded. Ginny and Ron just shrugged, far less interested in the paper than they were the miniature flying broom. Eve was going to mess with the parchment further, but the brown owl had lost its patience and gave her hand a hard nip.

"Ouch!" Eve hissed, shaking her hand. "Alright, alright!" she grumbled, untying the letter from its leg. The owl let out an annoyed hoot and stole a chunk for her french toast before hopping to the window sill. It started at her intently, waiting for her to read it.

 _Evangeline,_

 _I will admit I have no idea of what to get a young witch for her birthday, so I concluded that I shall take you to Diagon Alley this Saturday in lieu of a gift. We will also be able to purchase many of your school supplies while we are there._

 _Happy birthday,_

 _S.S._

Eve read the note aloud as excitement filled her. She had been wanting to go to Diagon Alley for ages! Ron and Ginny made it sound akin to an amusement park with all it's shops, vendor stands, and bizarre people and creatures.

"Smart idea," Mrs. Weasley nodded in approval as she fed Errol a piece of toast. "Avoiding the mess of summer shopping when every student is out looking for school supplies. You should write back -"

But Eve was already two steps ahead of her, she had ripped a length of the paper from the note Charlie wrote her and the quill from the side table and was already writing down a hasty reply.

The school owl seemed just as eager to leave as she was to send the reply because it grabbed the parchment with its beak before she could even attempt to tie it onto its leg and flew off towards the morning sun.

The most unfortunate part of her birthday was that she would have to wait all week to see another part of the wizarding community.

* * *

That week alone had dragged on longer than it had waiting for winter to end. Eve was so eager to visit Diagon Alley that she had begun to find it difficult to concentrate during her lessons, but how could one pay attention to maths when there was an entire world she had yet to fully explore?

Saturday morning, Eve was already awake and dressed before the sun had risen; she wanted to get her morning chores done as fast as possible before her father arrived. By 9 am, she had already fed the chickens, swept the landing, and dusted the Weasley's prized clock, which showed the locations of each family member before anyone else had gotten out of bed.

Her father arrived a couple of hours later and by that point Eve was wound up with excitement and found it hard not to squirm with delight as they Flooed to London.

Eve stepped out of the fireplace and found herself in a bar. The place was mostly empty save to the bartender and a single customer who appeared to be immersed in some sort of Rubix Cube-like puzzle and did not look up at the sound of her arrival.

"Hello…" The bartender greeted her, flashing her a smile of grey and missing teeth. "Ah, hello Professor,' he continued as her father stepped out of the flames behind her. The man's eyes darted between the two of them a look of surprise clearly written on his face.

"Tom," her father greeted dryly, dusting himself off.

Eve and the bartender locked eyes for a moment before her father grasped her wrist and pulled her down the hall. He lead them to a door that opened into an enclosed alley that held nothing but the morning's trash and a large brick wall. Severus Snape moved towards the wall but stopped abruptly to look down at her.

"Now, before we go to the Alley, you must promise me that you will stay close to me and not wander off. The main street is perfectly safe, but there are many side streets that uphold a more...unsavory character, and I don't want you to get lost in them. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!"

Her father nodded in approval before he brought out his wand and tapped a series of bricks. The last brick disappeared and the brick surrounding it clicked and clacked out of the way, revealing an entrance to a colorful and well-lit street. Eve's eyes widened as they took in the shop signs and small groups of people bustling around.

"Now, our first stop is Gringotts Bank, I need to withdraw some money before we can go anywhere else."

Eve nodded in understanding, but that did not curb her desires to greedily look at the windows at each shop that they passed by; there was _Eeylops Owl Emporium, Slug and Jiggers Apothecary, Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions,_ and most intriguing of all, _Ollivander's Wand Shop._

"There will be plenty of time to look around after the bank," her father reminded her before tugging her along by her sweater sleeve.

The bank was a looming figure at the end of the street and as they approached it Eve realized that it's strange lean to the left was not the illusion of perspective, but the actual construction of the building. A large set of silver doors greeted them, one of which bore a plaque:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what waits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn,_

 _So if you seek beneath our floors_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

Eve shivered at the poetic warning that was obviously a thinly-veiled and ominous threat, and she had to ask herself what kind of people ran the bank.

Apparently, small and frankly scary-looking humanoids were exactly the kind of people that would make such a threat. These people were small and wrinkly with very little hair other than the tuffs that stuck out of their long and pointed ears. Some scurried around with a stack of paper while others were seated at teller booths, but all of them were ignoring their presence.

Her father approached one of the teller booths where a creature with glasses and a blue pinstripe suit sat quickly jotting down a series of numbers.

"I would like to withdraw money from my vault," he said, placing the key on the desk. The creature looked away from his work stared up at her father.

"And do you have a set amount you would like retrieved, or shall you be escorted down to your vault?"

"That isn't necessary." her father said. "Just withdraw the total amount of my last deposit."

The creature nodded and grabbed her father's key in his small, clawed hands, then inserted it into the small lockbox placed on his desk. Eve was too short to see what was in the box, but she supposed even if she were tall enough there would be no point as the creature had to stick its entire arm into the box like it was Mary Poppin's carpet bag before pulling out a sack of coins and placing them on the table. It then closed the box with a click as the keyhole spat out a small roll of parchment.

"Sign here," it….he? said, handing the key back to her father as he quickly took it back with one hand and briskly signed the receipt with the provided quill on the counter.

"Thank you," her father said in his usually cool tone. The goblin nodded and reached for his quill, but not before looking down at her. Unsure of what to do, Eve managed an awkward smile at the creature and it bared its teeth in return. A mass of sharp, pointy teeth that were arranged in what could possibly be considered a smile. Eve almost let out a yelp and she rushed to her father's side as he strode towards the exit. She swore she could hear laughter as the doors closed behind them.

"What were those?" Eve asked once she felt they were a safe distance away from the bank.

"Those are goblins. I recommend to always be civil with them; you never want to get on a goblin's bad side."

"I had a feeling…" Eve shuddered, replaying that goblin's smile in her head. "Where are we going first?" she asked, shaking off the negative sensation with the excitement of the day ahead.

"I suggest getting your school trunk first, at least so we have a place for all of your supplies." Eve's shoulder dropped slightly at the suggestion; trunks sounded like the most boring thing possible when it was sandwiched in between _The Magical Menagerie_ and _Florean Fortescue's Ice-Cream Parlour._

She was more than happy to be wrong when they stepped inside _Traveler's Trunks._ From the outside, it almost looked like a non-magical shop full of antique suitcases, but the interior held trunks of all shapes and sizes. Some appeared normal, others opened like doors to entire rooms.

"How can I help you?" a young woman with frizzy blonde hair asked as they stepped inside. There was no one else in the shop, but it still felt crowded with the sheer number of trunks and suitcases surrounding them. She heard her father reply, but Eve had become too distracted by a trunk the size of a desk. Its lid was already wide open, revealing a long ladder that was built into one of the sides. As she looked down into it, she could see the beginnings of a large garden twenty or so feet down from the lid. It looked like a garden that was ready to be planted and with enough room to grow all sorts of plants and herbs.

"Evangeline!"

"...huh?"

"I am speaking to you, it would be wise to pay attention." Eve turned around, only to see that her father and the shopkeeper were now on the other side of the store. Embarrassed, Eve weaved her way through the maze of trunks to the back of the shop were dozens of smaller and less impressive storage line the walls.

"Sorry," she apologized. "But there was a trunk with a whole garden in it!"

"That's an herbalist's trunk. We are getting a school trunk."

"Yeah...I know."

The shopkeeper smiled. "She knows a good trunk when she sees one...but here are our standard school trunks, all of which can be personalized with initials for a small fee. These all have basic extension charms and an extra compartment to separate school supplies from clothing, but some also feature…"

Within a half hour, Eve and her father left the shop with a simple black trunk that had been shrunk down to the size of a matchbox. It was not where near as cool as the other trunks there, but she supposed it would be alright for school.

"Are there trunks that have a whole house inside of them?" she asked as the walked down the cobbled street.

"Yes, and they cost more than building a house from the ground up," her father replied with a shake of his head.

The next stop was the book shop where they spent fifteen minutes gathering several of the textbooks her father knew she would need for Hogwarts and another hour of browsing the rest of the books on the shelves. After a few minutes of debating, Eve gathered the courage to ask her father if she could get a couple of extra books and was pleasantly surprised that he agreed to buy " _Basic Healing Brews_ " and " _What Makes the Dark Arts Dark?,"_ and only refused her " _Jolly Jinxes for Pranks and Pastimes."_

"No need to stop and get school robes for you until absolutely necessary," her father mused as they passed by _Madam Malkin's_ a second time. "Not when you're growing as quickly as a clipping of Devil's Snare…" It was true, Eve had grown quite a bit since fall and Mrs. Weasley had to adjust her clothing through a combination of charms and old-fashioned sewing.

"Can I get my wand today?" Eve asked as her eyes fell on the next shop on the street.

"I hardly think…"

"Plllease?" her voice came out as more of a whine than she had intended.

"Do not beg. You are not a dog," her father scolded harshly.

"I'm sorry. I just really wanted to _officially_ be a witch," she said, trying to keep her tone as even as possible. Her father glared at her for a moment with his dark eyes and Eve felt the now-familiar sensation of prickles in her head.

"Alright, fine," he concluded with a sigh. "But your wand will remain in my possession until the first of September. I don't want you to be tempted to use it outside of school."

"I wouldn't."

"Well, I'm making sure you won't."

"Yeah...okay," she replied a little deflated, but ecstatic that she had gotten what she wanted.

A tiny bell chimed as they opened the door to Ollivander's. Like the trunk shop, the place was empty and a little dusty, but unlike the first shopkeep, this one was not behind the desk.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," a voice just as old and as dusty as the boxes and shelves surrounding them answered from several rows down. After a pause followed by frantic footsteps, the two of them were greeted by a short, older man with a head of shocking white hair. The suit he wore was also old and a bit worn-in, another layer of shabbiness added to the small shop. Eve began to second guess her desire to get a wand from here today.

"Ah, Professor Snape!" the man wheezed. "11 3⁄4 inches, ebony with dragon heartstring."

"That's correct," her father affirmed.

"And...Miss Snape?" he asked, his eyebrows raised into his white hairline.

"Peters-Snape." Her father corrected. Eve looked up at him with a mix of curiosity and annoyance; no one had told her about this name change. She wished he had actually told her these things beforehand. She also recalled there being a meaning behind hyphenated names in the wizarding world in that book she had received for Christmas, but she couldn't remember. She wanted to say something, but she bit her tongue; she knew better than to stir things up in public

"Ah," the old man responded in a tone that suggested he knew more than she did about the whole thing. "Very well. Miss Peters-Snape I assume you are here for a little early shopping to get your first wand?"

"Yes, Mr...?" she stammered.

"Ollivander. Same as the name of the shop. It's been in my family for over two thousand years now." Eve glanced at the dusty boxes again; it looked like he hadn't cleaned in two thousand years either. "Now let's get you measured up, shall we?" he continued, pulling out a measuring tape from his breast pocket. Her father pushed her forward slightly when her feet refused to initiate the momentum themselves, but she managed to make it over to the old man without stumbling over her own feet.

"Now, which is your wand hand?"

"Uhhh…" Eve blanched as stared at her equally useful hands. There was a word for that…

"She's ambidextrous," Severus answered for her before the silence became awkward.

"Ah! It's not every day I have an ambidextrous client!' he smiled, letting go of the length of measuring tape. It swiveled out of his hands and began making measurements on Eve's body on its own accord; measuring the distance between her shoulders, the length of her arms, and even the circumference of her head, but Mr. Ollivander paid little attention to the tape as was already searching the boxes on the shelves.

"Let's try this one. 9 ½ inches, phoenix feather, and ebony. A bit rigid." he said, pulling a short wand the same color as her father's from a box on the lower self. Eve had no idea what any of what he said meant, but she gently took the wand from his hands. Its magic prickled in her hands.

"Go on, give it a wave!"

Eve did what she was told, only to yelp in surprise as the hem of the man's pants caught on fire. Ollivander must have experienced a lot with handing out new wands, for he hardly reacted and simply vanished the flames with a wave of his wand.

"I'm sorry!" Eve gasped, still in shock.

"Don't you worry! It happens all the time," he said, quickly taking the wand from her hands. "Ebony is definitely not for you." He summoned a ladder to assist him in reaching the top of one of the shelves.

"Ah, Hawthorn and dragon heartstring, 12 inches exactly. Sturdy, with little give." He handed her the lighter-colored wood. The moment Eve grasped it in her hand she frowned. The shopkeeper noticed her sour expression.

"Something wrong?"

"It feels...like needle pricks," she tried to explain. "I don't think I like it."

"Oh! You're sensitive to magic, how wonderful!" Ollivander smiled, taking the wand back. "That makes my job so much easier." He winked. Eve glanced at her father, who had raised an eyebrow at the old man's statement. Eve felt confused, couldn't all wizards and witches feel the buzzing magic around them?

"Let's look elsewhere shall we?" he chuckled, wandering down the narrow aisle until he turned right and walked out of sight down a smaller path. He came back a few minutes later with another dusty box in hand.

"12 ¼ inches, unicorn hair, and willow. A bit springy."

The sensation Eve got was stronger and far more comfortable than the previous two as she held the willow wand. She gave it a slight wave and it sparked a little, but quickly fizzled out.

"We are getting close!" he smiled. This time he related to the opposite aisle on the left and quickly pulled out a box that was easily in reach of him. He held this one out to her with an almost impish grin.

"Hornbeam and unicorn hair, just a fraction over 11 inches and only slightly bendy." Eve took the wand from his hands as was overcome by a sensation of warmth. She waved the wand and a series of yellow and purple sparks showered out of it.

"Yes, yes! I do love when I sell a Hornbeam wand; my own is made from Hornbeam," he said, pulling her his own similar wand from his pocket. "It means you have a passion, a drive that you will follow to your greatest potential. And the fact that its measurement is not rounded to the nearest quarter inch usually mean you have an affinity for a subtle art, also like me. Though I supposed that isn't always a definitive truth...Either way, I expect to hear you making innovations in the field of your passion in the future."

Eve smiled back at him this time, thrilled to finally have her very own wand.

They left the shop shortly after and Eve had to somberly hand over her new wand to her father. As they walked down the street, Eve's annoyance with having to give up her wand and the unexpected name change hung over her head and only added in weight as the trip to Diagon Alley winded down. It was a struggle to remain quiet the remainder of their outing, but Eve managed.

They arrived back at the Weasley's just before suppertime. Eve stepped through the floo and into the Weasley's living room. She dusted herself off as Severus Snape followed behind her.

"Here," he said, handing her matchbox-sized trunk. "The spell should wear off later tonight. It would be a good idea to start reading you schoolbooks ahead of time. Eve nodded and took the trunk.

"Thank you," she said quietly, still trying to contain her aggravation.

"Alright, what is it?" her father sighed with exasperation. Eve opened her mouth to speak when Molly appeared in the entryway.

"Oh, Eve. You're just in time for supper," she said with her signature matronly smile. "Severus, would you care to join us?"

"No thank you, Molly," he said dismissively. "Though, might I have a word with Evangeline for a moment?"

"Of course, the woman replied, her smile only faulting slightly as she turned to walk away. Her father waved his wand behind the woman's back, but nothing appeared to happen.

"A spell to make sure we are not overheard," her father said, answering her look of confusion. "Alright, now, what is it that you wanted to say?"

"My name is Peters-Snape now?" It was the first thing to pop out of her mouth. Her father sighed again as he sat down in one of the comfy armchairs. "Why can't I just go by Peters?"

"I take it you have not read the book I gave you?"

"I skimmed it," Eve grumbled. "And I remember there was a chapter about last names and something about having two last names in the wizarding world…"

"It's hyphenated, yes," her father deadpanned. "Names that are usually given to children of two unmarried magical parents.

"My mother wasn't a witch!" her irritation had turned to outright anger. Severus Snape, however, gave no reaction to her outburst.

"You are overreacting," her father replied in a bored tone. A cup of hot tea appeared in front of him and he drank from it, apparently already bored with their conversation. His lack of concern only fueled her rage.

"Can you prove that your mother wasn't a witch?" he asked. This question threw her off her guard and she stammered out a reply.

"She would have told me!"

"Are you certain?"

Eve crossed her arms in frustration. Why wouldn't her mom have told her if she had been magical? They never kept secrets from each other; Renee was so open with her about her adult life and Eve had always told her about the school, her friends, or when something strange had happened. Her mother keeping a secret that big was unimaginable to Eve. Part of her wanted to yell and tell her father off, but that was not only irrational, but it was also an action she knew she would sorely regret. So she bit her lip and drew in a deep breath.

"Did she tell you she was a witch?" Eve asked bitterly, choosing the safest question she could come up with.

Her father suddenly looked uncomfortable. He set down the teacup and stared at the floor for a moment as if he were pondering what to say next.

"No, but I can conclude that she had some magic in her," he said slowly, his dark eyes staring into her own, though this time Eve did not feel that strange prickling sensation behind her eyes. Eve scowled back. Her father sighed and continued.

"I met your mother at the Leaky Cauldron," he said stiffly. Eve made a face; she remembered the dingy bar that guarded the entrance to Diagon Alley. "Muggles can't see the door to the Leaky Cauldron, only those with magical blood can enter."

"Did she have a wand?"

"I don't rec-" he started, stopping himself with a huff. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he continued. "The point is that your mother was either a witch, a squib, or one incredibly perceptive Muggle. But given that the later is highly improbable, it is reasonable to conclude that she possessed magical blood."

Eve sat down with a pout. What her father proposed was sound in logic, but something about the whole thing just didn't sit well with her, but she was unable to pinpoint what.

Her father sighed.

"Remember what I told you at Christmas? About certain types of wizards?"

"There are some people who don't like non-magical people and those who have non-magical parents," she replied sourly.

"Remember Evangeline, I'm trying to provide you with the best opportunities I can."

"Even if it involves lying," Eve scoffed.

"Even if it involves forming conclusions without concrete evidence," he corrected.

Eve stared at her hands initiating a long-lasting silence between them. In the comfort of the cozy armchair that Arthur usually sat in, she came to the conclusion that while she didn't like the whole thing, it was probably necessary. Her father was protecting her after all, wasn't he?

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing!


	10. 1990, Chapter 9

Chapter 9: A Strange Afternoon

(May 1990)

Summer, like spring, had come early this year. The saying "April showers bring May flowers" had become a concrete fact over the last few weeks. Today, the sun was shining over the endless fields of wildflowers that the two girls now occupied. Ron had been in one of his sour moods that day and wanted little to do with them, so Eve and Ginny sat alone enjoying the fresh air and an abundance of flowers that surrounded them. Ginny was showing Eve how to make flower crowns, something that Eve was apparently terrible at. The eldest threw her poor excuse for a crown into the long grass beside them as the other donned her fiery red hair with an elegant crown of daisies.

"Ugh. I'm bored," Eve complained as she fell onto her back in an overly dramatic fashion.

"We could play a game," Ginny suggested.

"Like what?" Eve scoffed. There weren't many games that she could think of for only two people.

"Magical Tests."

"What on earth is that?"

"The four of us came up with it last year," Ginny explained. By four, Eve assumed she was talking about Fred, George, Ron, and herself. "We came up with all sorts of tests to see who could perform the most powerful accidental magic."

"Why would you do that?"

"To see who's the strongest, duh!" Ginny exclaimed while rolling her eyes. "We did different tests like trying to turn rocks into different colors, making our toys appear outside...that kind of thing."

"Mmmm…" Eve mumbled non-committedly.

"Ron and Fred actually got their rocks to turn blue, and George managed to make his Cauldron Coin Bank appear next to the chicken coop."

Eve just shrugged. It wasn't that the made-up game didn't seem interesting. It was mainly that her magic had always been unintentional. Usually, her magic only appeared when she was upset or exceptionally happy; she had no idea if she could command it to do anything, but she wasn't going to tell Ginny that.

"I'll start!" Ginny said, either oblivious or unbothered by Eve's lack of interest. "Hmmm…" the girl scanned around them with strong intent.

"I know!" She plucked several wildflowers off of their stems so that all that remained in her hand were the bloomed and half-budded flowers. "I'm going to make these petals fly." Ginny stared at her hand, her face wrinkled like she smelled something terrible as she concentrated on the wildflowers. A minute or two passed and Eve had to suppress a giggle as Ginny's face turned red with frustration. Another minute passed and she was about to say something when Ginny let out a growl of frustration.

"Arrrg! Fred made it look so easy!" she yelled. The petals in her hands rapidly wilted until they were nothing but a greenish-black mush in her hands.

"Erm, well that's something isn't it?" Eve snorted as the younger girl wiped her hand in the dirt with disgust.

"Well if it so funny, why don't you do it?"

"Don't wanna."

"Chicken."

"Yep."

When Ginny's insult gained no traction, she resorted to blackmail.

"I'll tell Ron it was you that told the Ghoul in the attic that it could sleep in his bedroom." Yes, Eve had done that, but only because Ron had broken the charmed mini broom that she had gotten for her birthday last month. She had been very bitter about the whole thing. In fact, she still kind of was, but she didn't want Ron to know that, because if he did, he would probably tell Molly, who would probably tell her father after she had promised to be perfectly behaved while at the Weasleys. Ginny was the only one who knew the truth and she had said she wouldn't tell anyone.

Eve debated calling her bluff, but risk far outweighed the challenge.

"Ugh, fine!" she grumbled, ripping a few nearby flowers off of their stems. Ginny could be a downright witch when she wanted to be, and not the magical kind either.

"You have far too many nargles interfering with your mind to be successful," an airy voice stated from behind them. Ginny jumped up in surprise as Eve let out a little yelp.

"Oh. It's just you, Luna," Ginny said with an exasperated sigh. Eve whipped around to see a young girl around Ginny's age with white-blonde hair and a wide-eyed stare that made her look perpetually surprised. She wore brightly colored clothes of pink and green along with some sort of hair clip that gave Eve the distinct impression of rabbit ears.

"What's a nargle?" Eve asked, still focused dumbly at the strange girl in front of her.

"They're invisible creatures that fly around your head and make your brain all fuzzy," Luna deadpanned like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"How do you know they're there if they're invisible?" she asked the strange girl. She could she Ginny making a panicked expression, but Luna smiled softly and cocked her head.

"Just because you can't see something doesn't mean it doesn't exist."

Eve opened her mouth to argue but stopped herself. Yes, usually sight played a big factor in proving whether something existed or not, but there were things that you normally couldn't see, like oxygen or microscopic bugs. Besides, she was still so new to the wizarding world, what did she know?

"I guess I'll take your word for it, then," Eve shrugged. Ginny visibly relaxed and Luna beamed at her.

"I haven't met you before, are you new to the area?" Luna asked, plopping down onto the grass between her and Ginny and invading Eve's personal space. Eve scooted away from her slightly.

"I'm Eve Peters-Snape," she said clumsily, her new last name muddled in her mouth. She still wasn't used to it; the entire conversation with her father the month prior still rested upon her shoulders with an uncomfortable weight. "I'm staying with the Weasleys for the school year. My father is a professor at…" Eve stopped herself. She was almost certain this weird girl was magical, but she knew she couldn't be too careful.

"At Hogwarts, " Luna finished, leaving Eve to sigh with relief. "You're related to Professor Snape then? My father wrote to him last year about a legion of vampires that have infiltrated the Potioneer's Association. He never wrote back…" Eve blinked rapidly, what on earth was she talking about? Eve may have not known too much about the wizarding world, but what Luna was saying seemed far from likely. Was she just joking around or was she serious?

"Err...sorry?" she shrugged, unsure of what else to say.

"That's alright, he probably has to keep quiet in order not to anger the infiltrators under the threat of being turned. You should tell him to carry garlic in his pockets if he isn't already," she whispered darkly. Eve glanced at Ginny who looked unconcerned. Confused by the vastly different tones of the two other girls, Eve just managed to give Luna an awkward half shrug in reply.

"Good. So, what are you two doing?" Luna asked with curiosity, her tone returning to the carefree quality that it had started with.

"We're trying to perform magic, like making flowers fly," Ginny said, as though that strange conversation had never happened. "Want to join us?" Eve bit her lip. Playing with this girl was the last thing Eve wished to do.

"That sounds nice, but mine only seems to happen accidentally. I don't think I'd be too good at it."

"Oh, that's okay, we can play something else," Ginny shrugged. Eve inwardly groaned; she should have just told Ginny the same thing in the first place.

"We could explore the woods!" Luna suggested, pointing to the scraggly treeline in the distance. "Daddy says there could be a pod of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks that were smuggled in from Sweden and escaped from their captors. If we find them, we might be able to send them back home!"

Eve opened her mouth to protest. She had never heard of this magical creature, not even in the book " _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_." Luna had to be joking around; this sounding like a snipe hunt. Eve wasn't sure she wanted to spend the rest of her afternoon looking for nothing, but the look Ginny gave her suggested that she just play along.

Eve learned quickly that Luna was a strange girl, even by wizarding standards; she lived only a mile or so from the Weasley's in a house shaped like a castle tower and that she and her father would go hunting for these mysterious animals all summer long and report their findings in a magazine titled " _The Quibbler._ " This, of course, confirmed that Luna fully believed in what she was saying, whether it was actually true or not.

Despite not originally wanting to go out into the woods, Eve found that looking for an invisible (and most-likely not real) creature was kind of fun, and even though Luna spoke a lot about these magical snipes, she also knew much about the actual wildlife around them. She seemed to know which mushrooms were poisonous, which were used in potions, (statements Eve knew she could easily fact-check when she got back to The Burrow) and which were edible.

She also discovered that Luna was uncannily observant; as the sun began to set and the woods grew dark and the three girls ended their search for the Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, Luna turned to say goodbye.

"Thanks for searching with me, even though you don't think the Snorkacks are real."

"We had fun Luna, right Eve?" Ginny smiled, nudging her.

"Yeah, I did. Even though I'm not sure I believe in them. I did learn a lot about mushrooms though!" Ginny shot her a dirty look, but Luna smiled.

"When I find one, I'll be the first to document it properly, then you'll see that our search wasn't pointless."

"Sounds good," Eve smiled back. The strange girl skipped away towards her own house as she and Ginny made their way back to The Burrow.

"I don't get to see much of Luna anymore; we used to play a lot together when we were small, but we don't anymore," Ginny said as they stepped onto the Weasley's property after walking in silence for over ten minutes.

"Why not?"

"Mum doesn't like me hanging around her too much; says that every animal and conspiracy that her father "finds" is just made up dribble to sell those magazines and Luna's grown up believing it was all true. She gets really upset if you tell her that her father is wrong…"

"...Oh."

"They travel a lot too, looking for all those weird animals. Mum says he's made up so many stories that he's even convinced himself they are true. She said that Mr. Lovegood kinda went barmy after Luna's mum died, but I think Luna's nice despite all that, don't you think so?"

Eve stopped in her tracks, staring straight ahead.

"Oh, I'm sorry Eve!" Ginny cried. "I didn't mean to be mean; I know you lost your mummy to and…" But Eve wasn't listening to the girl next to her, she was focused on the house, particularly the front yard.

"Some guy just appeared by the chicken coop," she said pointing to the stranger ahead of them. Ginny looked to where she was pointing; she confused expression quickly shifted to the excitement.

"Bill!" she exclaimed. The younger girl rushed through the long weeds towards the man at a surprising speed. Eve watched as Ginny got smaller and smaller until she reached the minuscule man in the distance, where he picked her up with a twirl, pulling her into a bear hug. Eve jogged down the hill at a far less impressive speed over to them.

"Ooof, you've grown so big, Gin!" the man said, setting her back down.

"Well, I am nine now," Ginny said matter-of-factly with a roll of her eyes.

"Yeesh, way to make me feel old," he laughed.

"That's because you are!" Ginny teased. "I've got to tell mum and dad that you're here!" she added before she bound to the kitchen with her barely-contained excitement, leaving Eve alone with the Weasley brother she had never met before.

Bill was taller and slender like Percy, shared Charlie's blue eyes, had Ron and Ginny's exact shade of fiery red hair, and sported the twin's dimpled smile. His hair was nearly as long as his sister's and was pulled back in a ponytail, uncovering his ears to show off a single black earring shaped like some kind of claw or tooth. He was what her mother would have called "ruggedly handsome" and Eve had to agree; he probably could have been a movie star if he had been non-magical. She felt her face grow hot and she hastily looked at the ground.

"Wow, you look just like Professor Snape," he exclaimed. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Eve."

Eve continued to look down at her feet; she really didn't need to be reminded how much she looked like her father, but his tone was not laced with malice or dislike, just genuine surprise.

"I'm...aware," Eve muttered.

"Bill!" Molly shouted. The front door swung open violently and most likely would have smashed into the wall if Arthur hadn't been right behind her to stop it. The woman practically sobbed in her eldest son's arms. Her husband was far less emotional but looked equally as happy to see his child. Ron and Ginny exited The Burrow last and only adding to the exciting chaos. Eve stood off to the side awkwardly; some days Eve felt like she was another one of the Weasley children, but moments like this reminded her that she was an outsider, only a guest in this large and happy family.

"Such a surprise," Molly sniffed, finally drying away her tears." I thought you said you couldn't find time off until August."

"Change in plans," Bill smiled down at his mother. "Some of the senior curse-breakers uncovered a tomb with a wicked curse. No one under a level three curse-breaker is allowed to enter the premises until they can either break it or find a way to contain it. They're giving us lower levels a week off; hopefully, they can figure it out by next Wednesday…"

Molly's face had a slightly sour look to it; it was no secret that Mrs. Weasley hated the fact that her son was off dealing with dangerous magic in a foreign country and it was apparent that she wanted to say something that reflected her feelings, but Arthur gently laid a hand on her shoulder in response, leaving her to simply sigh in return.

"Well, at least you're safe," Molly said softly. "And it looks like you are just in time for supper," she added cheerfully. "Ron, it's your turn to set the table." Ron groaned and grumpily made his way to the kitchen.

"And girls, please wash up before dinner, yes?" Molly asked. Eve looked dirt-caked fingernails and greyish-brown coating up her arms and legs, suddenly feeling very embarrassed about the first impression she gave the eldest Weasley child. She hoped she could make it through the night without making more of a fool out of herself.

Eve was quiet through dinner; she always felt weird upon meeting new people and she had met two of them today. The dinner table was much more talkative than usual. Bill was charming, charismatic, and funny. He told interesting stories about cursed sarcophagi, deadly ancient beasts, and even a few live mummies that he had encountered at his job in Egypt. Eve silently paid attention as the others bombarded the young man with questions, commentary, and their own stories as they caught up with each other's lives.

However, Eve's lack of participation did not go unnoticed as the usually least observant Weasley called her out on her unusual behavior.

"Waz 'og, Eeb?" Ron asked as a bit of ham hung from his lower lip. Eve had been living at The Burrow long enough that she had become fluent in mouth-full-of-food-eese.

"Nothin," Eve mumbled, taking care to actually swallow her food before speaking. All eyes at the table were now looking at her, making her want to melt into the floor.

"You are awfully quiet today," Arthur agreed. "Is something wrong?"

"I'm fine, I just enjoy listening about Egypt, that's all," she shrugged.

"Well, I've yammered on long enough about Egypt," Bill sighed. "Why don't you tell us what you did today?" Eve felt herself blush again, a disgusting blotchy-red color that peppered her cheeks whenever she was embarrassed.

"Err...well, Ginny and I were playing out in the fields and we saw Luna Lovegood." She noticed Mrs. Weasley frowned slightly. "Then we decided to explore the woods. Luna knows a lot about wild mushrooms." Eve avoided talking about the Nargles or Crunkeled Horned Whatevers and this seemed to be the right choice because Molly looked far less concerned about it. "A couple of them would be usable for the potions in the book you gave me for Christmas...Err, thanks by the way," Eve nodded at Bill, her face feeling hotter than ever.

"Glad you're getting use out of it, then," he chuckled. Eve nodded; she had read " _100 Useful Potions you Need to Know"_ over several times - mostly because it had been the easiest of her potions books to understand as even the Hogwarts textbook got a bit confusing in the later chapters - and had practically memorized the basic ingredients of each potion in it.

"Have you tried making any of them?"

"Bill!" his mother playfully slapped him on the wrist "You know she's not allowed to do potions outside of Hogwarts."

"What about those cleaning potions that I help you make?" Eve asked cheekily.

"That's different," Molly huffed. "Those are strictly used for maintaining a household; my mother taught me how to brew them at your age and her mother taught her. I'll be showing Ginny how to next year."

"Yeah, I know," Eve smiled as she tucked into another bite of potato. She felt silly for feeling like an outsider just moments ago. But the Weasley's didn't seem to think that; Bill just happened to be another brother she had yet to meet.

Bill insisted on helping Eve with the dishes even though it was her turn to clean them. He offered to dry while she washed.

"I'm sure everyone is waiting to hear more stories about Egypt," Eve nodded toward the living room where the rest of the family had gathered.

"They can wait a few minutes," Bill shrugged, drying out the old china bowl he was holding. "Besides, I wouldn't want you to miss out."

They worked silently for several minutes as they clean the rest of the dishes. After a few moments of debating, Eve decided to speak.

"Two," Eve said quietly, hoping her voice couldn't be heard in the next room.

"What?" Bill asked as she handed him another plate.

"I've tried making two of them," she reiterated, just a bit louder.

Bill laughed so hard he nearly dropped the plate he was holding.


End file.
